


of what you've done

by Aescela, taywen



Series: like a scar, indelible [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Daddy!Daud, Daud learning sign language like a cute dork, Depression, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grumpy Daud Regretting Things, Low Chaos!Daud, M/M, Mute!Corvo - Freeform, Post-Low Chaos Ending, Royal Spymaster!Daud, Self-Harm, Sexual Tension, Sign Language, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The Outsider is a shippy fanboy, mute character, mutual consent, tattooed!Daud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 137,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7923349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aescela/pseuds/Aescela, https://archiveofourown.org/users/taywen/pseuds/taywen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 of the soulmate-AU.</p><p>Daud is the new Royal Spymaster and just learned about the bond he shares with Corvo, the person whose life he ruined. Daud now has to deal with his guilt and regret while trying his best to understand the mystery that Corvo Attano is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the second part of the Dishonored Soulmate-AU!
> 
> It's been a year since Taywen posted the first part of this series and, with their permission and wonderful support, I decided to keep it going, building up on what was already established. I can highly recommend reading part 1 by Taywen first since this part is picking up where the first one left off.
> 
> I can only hope I do their wonderful writing justice. Enjoy reading!

**I.**

The days in court following Daud’s discovery are a torment for him.

He is torn between feeling absolutely miserable, knowing that he is the one person responsible for having fucked up the life of his soulmate, _his own soulmate_ , in such a spectacular and thorough way, and feeling lightheaded and euphoric about the fact that he _has_ a soulmate after all in a way he’s never experienced so far, and not an hour passes without him thinking about Corvo, which brings feelings of deep guilt and that infuriatingly intense fluttering in his stomach in equal parts.

It’s disgusting.

Daud sighs and places another sheet of paper on the growing pile next to him on the wooden desk, the ink of his shaky signature still wet. Dusty sunbeams float through the high windows of Hiram Burrow’s former office that Daud now claims as his own, the few items and books he brought from his lair in the Flooded District distributed in shelves and drawers. The rack that holds his weapons is new, leftovers from his life as assassin that he is not willing to part from, as well as the special lock on one of the windows. It is a custom-built model by his design, allowing a person that is able to use Tethering to open the window from the ledge outside, making it easy for his Whalers to access his office to report to him and receive orders. Austere and yet elegant, his new quarters are major improvement from the ruined Chamber of Commerce in the Flooded District, but they still feel somewhat impersonal.

Daud briefly makes a fist to stop his hand from shaking and reaches for the cup of tea that has so far failed to calm his nerves.

Two days have passed since he’s learned that Corvo bears his soulmate mark on his back, the first words Daud has uttered to him. Two days since he’s learned that the person whose downfall he had caused was the one person he should have dedicated his life to, instead of breaking him to pieces.

After they had spent the night sleeping next to each other in Corvo’s bed, tense and worn out by the emotional turmoil the whole affair had brought with it, their plan had been to discuss their bond the morning after. Daud had assumed that after having slept on it, he would be able to talk about the topic without having to resist the temptation to gut himself with his knife. Unfortunately, the next morning had been a confusing mess. Corvo had received an unexpected emergency call from some guard Captain, jumping out of the bed and into his Royal Protector coat, not able to leave a message for Daud besides an apologetic look and a scrawled note on the writing pad that he basically tossed at Daud’s sleepy form before storming out of his quarters.

Corvo hasn’t come back yet, and things remain undiscussed.

It eats at Daud more than it should.

Daud furtively stares at the scribbled note hidden under the document he’s currently working on. He runs his fingertips over Corvo’s writing, the messy lines promising _Will be back soon, meet you then_. Daud frowns and glances at the clock on his desk, noticing how much he wishes for time to go by faster.

Almost, but not quite unconsciously, his hand moves to his side where Corvo had wrapped his arm around him when they had slept, and he catches himself applying gentle pressure to the spot, imagining it’s Corvo’s hand instead of his own. A rush of heat runs through him and he snatches his hand away again, fighting to keep his breathing even. During that night, Daud had felt like Corvo’s touch would burn right through his side, the soft sounds of Corvo sleeping pressed close to his back making it hard to breathe for him.

Being touched by one’s soulmate is different from being touched by any other person, the stories would say. Daud had always dismissed that as romantic ramblings, the same fairy stories his mother had advised him to take with a grain of salt.

It deeply unsettles him that so far, at least that part seems to be true.

He is not sure about the other stories, though. Surely there is no mention of one soulmate turning their partner’s life into hell, like he did for Corvo.

The door to the Spymaster’s quarters fly open and Daud quickly snatches his hand away from Corvo’s note and covers it with his document again.

Empress Emily strides into his office with all the grace an eleven-year old regent can muster.  Daud greets her with a short bow of his head. She’s alone as far as he can tell, which is unusual.

“Good morning, your Highness,” he says. “What happened to your flock of tutors?”

“I dismissed them. I wanted to talk to you alone,” she answers, wearing the mask of an Empress stuffed into the body of a young girl that has had little time to be a child in her short life. The mask wavers when she sees Daud’s wristbow that he has left on the desk next to his documents, her face suddenly excited and open.

Daud notices her curious gaze and narrows his eyes at her.

“What brings you here, your Highness?”

Emily quickly looks back at him and the mask visibly snaps back into place. “Corvo came to me two days ago, before he went to Captain Curnow. He said he talked to you about… you know, his mark,” she says, something accusing in her dark eyes that he really can’t blame her for.

Daud slowly places the pen he has been holding on the desk. He admires how Emily calls Corvo’s wild mixture of gestures, sign language and written notes _talking_ , and he can only wish to be able to understand Corvo the way she does.

“We… have talked about it,” he says eventually.

“Does he know that you don’t have a mark?” she asks.

“I told him so,” Daud comes back.

“Why don’t you have one?”

Oh. So she hasn’t figured it out, yet. Again Emily sounds accusing, as if she’s disappointed by the fact that Daud is not only the probably worst soulmate the world has ever seen, but also that he hasn’t even the good grace to bear a corresponding mark. Daud takes a moment to gather his thoughts, thinks about how to explain to a young girl that the reason why Daud doesn’t have Corvo’s first words to him written on his skin is that Corvo had lost his tongue during his torture in Coldridge.

While he thinks, Daud stares at the ceiling.

On the edge of his field of vision, he sees a small hand slowly creeping towards his wristbow.

“No.”

Empress Emily Kaldwin makes a disappointed sound, suddenly a child again. Daud feels a pang of sympathy at the pouty stare she shoots him and has to stop himself from grinning, for the first time since… he doesn’t even know.

“When Corvo and I first met, I said the words to him that are written on his back, but he couldn’t respond anything, you know. That’s why I don’t have a mark with his quote”, he explains, his raspy voice as gentle as possible.

“Oh.”

Daud tries to gauge Emily’s feelings at his explanation from her, something that she is being taught to hide behind a diplomatic smile every day of the week, but he can see she understands.

“Where is Corvo?” he ventures.

“Captain Curnow has discovered a security breach over at Draper’s Ward, something about a textile mill,” she answers, obviously a little frustrated that she was not allowed to come. “Corvo was asked to join the Captain in his work because he’s responsible for safety.” The last words are said with pride in her voice.

Daud nods. So that’s where Corvo had to go so quickly. After he had departed, Daud had assigned three of his Whalers to discreetly watch over Emily, even though an entire swarm of guards accompanies her every step outside the Tower. Daud does not trust them, after all it had been a walk in the park for his men and him to reach Jessamine, and he feels responsible for the little Empress in more ways than one. His leftover men now are the secret police a Royal Spymaster needs for his work, and instead of eliminating targets Daud’s Whalers now act as spies, and by the Outsider, they love it.

“When will Corvo come back?” he asks as casually as possible.

Emily narrows her eyes at him, something too smart in her expression.

“I’ll tell you when you let me shoot your wristbow.”

“No.”

“In that case, I apologize but I can’t tell you.” These words are followed by a smile that is apologetic and smug equally. Daud sighs. She is going to be an incredibly talented diplomat, he is sure of that. “What a pity, he’s said so many things about you.”

Daud curses inwardly. _Politicians_.

“Fine. Just one bolt. And you tell me first,” he concedes after a while. The shrill whoop of joy Emily lets out at his words makes him raise his eyebrows and a smile tug at his lips.

“Alright. Corvo will be back tomorrow evening and he said that he is still angry with you, but he trusts you. He thinks you will do better, now that you’re here at the Tower with us,” she says, and her words etch a burning hole into Daud’s heart so that he has trouble to keep his expression as neutral as possible. Emily continues.

“Corvo also said that he had a very nice evening before he left, and that he slept well. He often has nightmares, you know, like me. But that night, he didn’t have any. I asked him,” she says, all childish self-confidence.

Those words elicit a _very_ different kind of emotion in Daud. He has to stop himself from pressing his hand to his side again and think about the way Corvo’s warm breath ruffles the tiny hairs at the back of his neck. Daud quickly distracts himself by reaching down for a drawer, rummaging around in it.

“What about our deal?” Emily wants to know, peeking over the edge of Daud’s desk. A tiny finger pokes at his wristbow and Daud quickly takes it away from her reach.

“Just one bolt. And I’ll guide your hand so you don’t shoot yourself, or me.”

“Awww… Can’t I shoot more? I need to practice!”

“No. Corvo already hates me and he’ll kill me himself if he finds as much as a scratch on you. One bolt,” Daud insists. Emily pouts again.

“Let me reload it,” he adds as he produces a bolt from the drawer. While he does so, his fingers brush against a piece of canvas that he doesn’t remember putting there. Frowning, Daud pulls the canvas from the bottom of the drawer. As it turns out, it is a folded painting of the former Royal Spymaster, smaller than the usual pretentious portraits that Sokolov paints for every noble and politician. Burrows seems to have forgotten it here quite a while ago.

Daud regards the painting for a while, staring at the face of the man who staged all the chaos that has ravaged Dunwall in the past months, the plague, the assassination of the Empress, and in a way also had caused Daud’s own world to crumble to ashes. The man who had blamed Corvo, his _soulmate_ , for crimes he hadn’t committed, ordered his torture, who had almost executed him. Daud has always despised Burrows, but now he hates him with a burning passion he has never found possible.

Daud takes a deep breath and hands the painting to Emily. Her face falls.

“That’s the old Spymaster,” she says as she stares at the painting of Burrows, an incredibly troubled frown on her face. She has probably been told that this man had ordered the assassination of her mother, not Daud himself. Daud wonders what is going through her young mind at the sight of the man who had turned out to be the root of all evil that has come to her, and his heart makes a painful little lurch.

Daud takes the portrait gently from her hands and strides over to the far end of his office to an empty wall. He pins the painting to the wall with a bolt and walks back over to the little Empress who watches him curiously.

“Your Highness, I made up my mind. You are going to have to shoot a _lot_ of bolts,” he says solemnly. “This is going to be our practice target.”

Emily smirks up at him, a wild sparkle in her eyes, and for a heartbeat she looks just like Corvo. Daud kneels next to Emily and helps her hold the wristbow in her left hand, making sure she doesn’t get the point of the bolt into her skin.

“This has to be our little secret. If Corvo hears from this he is going to use _me_ as a practice target, so let’s keep this between us two. Promise?” Daud asks her before she can aim.

Emily nods, all Empress, her dark eyes filled with deep sincerity before shining with that childish excitement again. “Promise. Now let me shoot!”

“Tilt your head and peek over the line of the bow. Good,” he says, gently guiding the angle of her head. Emily takes it very seriously, he notes, her thin eyebrows drawn together in a frown as she musters all the concentration an eleven-year old can possible have.

“Now align the notch and bead sights,” Daud continues. He helps Emily point the bolt at the head of Hiram Burrows, his face right next to hers as she aims, her thin arm surprisingly still.

Emily pulls the trigger and the bolt smashes into the wall with a soft thud. A thin shriek escapes her at the blowback, but one of Daud’s hands on her back steadies her.

“Look! A direct hit!” Emily squeals with a broad smile and glittering eyes, pointing excitedly at the portrait where the fletching of the bolt stands out from Burrows’ head. “I hit him! Take that, Burrows!”

“Excellent, your Highness,” Daud says approvingly, carefully making sure she doesn’t wave the wristbow in his direction in her excitement.

“Again! Please, Daud!”

Daud reloads, and together they aim, and when Emily hits Burrows again he’s sure her whoop of joy is going to make his ears ring for the rest of the day. It’s definitely worth it, he decides.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

Corvo returns by sundown, a day after.

Daud is still working since trying to sleep is futile. He compares the notes taken from one of his Whalers on a very suspicious noble with a copy from Campbell’s Black Book, trying to see if a connection to the former conspirators can be found. All in all it’s an activity that he finds very entertaining since it allows him to satisfy his need for uncovering secrets, but this evening he catches himself glancing at the door in growingly short intervals.

He sighs, rakes his fingers through his hair and leans back, peeking over at the portrait of Hiram Burrows. Emily has been very busy, and surprisingly he has found their shooting exercises just as enjoyable as the little Empress had. The portrait of the Lord Regent is pinned to the wall by at least two dozen wristbow bolts.

Daud has thought about taking the portrait away from the wall, now a mess of holes from the shower of shots Emily has rained on their practice target together with him. He has to admit that she is quite a natural – some of his own Whalers did worse than her during their training, even though she is much younger. In the end, though, he has left the portrait at the wall. Explaining the number of holes in the wall behind the painting would not be any easier, either, so he leaves the portrait where it is, bolts littering Burrows’ accursed face and all. The sight makes him oddly content, besides.

A knock on the door has Daud scrambling to put the pen and document down and push the chair back to get up, and then Corvo’s standing in the doorway.

Daud quickly takes in the Protector’s form and tells himself that he is not looking for signs of injuries. He notices his crumpled coat, the disheveled hair and his exhausted posture and ignores the soft sigh of relief that escapes him when he sees not a single drop of blood before his gaze meets Corvo’s. Corvo is tired, dark circles under his soft whiskey-brown eyes, but when he looks at Daud something flickers back to life in them.

Without turning away from Daud, he closes the door behind him, the sounds of the Tower cut off when it snaps shut, and the sudden silence in the murky office weighs down on them as they stand only a few steps from each other. Corvo closes the distance between them with a few long strides, and Daud feels himself tense, something deep inside his stomach heating up. A torrent of memories of how it felt to lie in bed with Corvo pressed to his back is warring with the stabbing pain that seeing Corvo’s scars is causing him, and it threatens to overwhelm Daud, and for a brief moment he has to fight the urge to rush over to Corvo and…

_… and what?_

Corvo seems to register the assassin’s inner turmoil and stops a step in front of him, eyes locked firmly on Daud’s.

Daud wills himself to do something, but by the Outsider he doesn’t know what, so he stays where he is, frozen to the spot.

The look Corvo fixes Daud with burns with something indecipherable as if he waits for something nameless to happen. His fists tense at his sides. After a moment that seems like hours, Daud can feel frustration ripple through the air, and Corvo takes out the notepad from the pocket of his coat. He quickly scribbles some words and turns the pad around.

_Sorry I had to depart so quickly._

“Oh. It’s… fine,” Daud grumbles, not willing to admit that he’s been hoping desperately for Corvo’s return at every little sound of footsteps for the last few days.

“I assume everything went well?” he asks.

Corvo’s mouth twists into a lopsided grimace and he wiggles one of his hands around, indicating that not everything went well, but good enough, more or less. Another gesture asks if he can use Daud’s desk, and Daud steps aside for Corvo. A messy pile of documents is placed on the desk, apparently notes from the incident at the textile mill in Drapers Ward, and Corvo shuffles them around, apparently bringing them in order. While he does so, Daud peeks over his broad shoulder curiously, and sees Corvo stifle a yawn with his hand. He looks like he hasn’t slept since he departed.

While Corvo works, Daud makes it to discreetly read one of the papers. It is a laboratory journal from Trimble, describing the antidote he mixes for himself every day should somebody decide to kill the Geezer and set the poisonous gas free. Daud tries to hide the frustrated groan that threatens to leaves his throat. The entire Delilah business seems to haunt him wherever he goes. He has thought about telling Corvo, but somehow the whole story of him saving Emily from being possessed by a mad witch seems more like a scream for attention than anything else, and besides, he can hardly prove that he actually did anything. Still, now that Corvo is getting his nose into the affairs of the people involved in Daud’s previous escapades, things might get more complicated than they already are. He decides not to comment on the notes regarding the Hatters. Instead, he clears his throat and waits for Corvo to look up at him, his hazel eyes blinking slowly.

“Why are you doing your work here, and not, you know… In your own office?” Daud asks.

Corvo grunts softly and takes out the notepad. He writes a longer message down for Daud, and the assassin waits impatiently until he is done.

_I wanted to come see you first. I’m sorry that I had to leave before we could talk, but I really need to get these files sorted, so I wanted to do that here. Then we can talk._

Stone-still, Daud raises his eyebrows, his gaze shifting from the note back to Corvo. He’s not sure what to say. It’s… touching, somehow, in a way that makes Daud feel entirely uncomfortable. Corvo’s first concern was to make sure he shows up at Daud’s office, and now he’s refusing to go to his own quarters to get his work done, instead staying with Daud.

Daud licks his lips and fights for composure.

“Suit yourself, bodyguard. Can I get you anything?” he asks a little hoarsely, just wanting to say something so he can stop staring at Corvo’s note. “Coffee, maybe?”

The slightest hint of a smirk graces Corvo’s tired features, and he shakes his head, a quick gesture saying _Thanks_. Then he continues to work, and Daud retreats to the fireplace to put another log into the softly smoldering embers. He watches the flames flicker back to life, creeping up the wood and licking over it as they grow. Soft orange light fills his quarters in addition to the candles he has placed around his desk. Daud furtively turns his head to glance over at Corvo as the bodyguard stifles another yawn, his stance looking unsteady and his broad shoulders hunched as he broods over his notes. Not wanting to be caught staring, Daud turns back to the fireplace, letting the heat seep through him.

A soft grunt has him turn his head sharply only to see Corvo slowly slump over, and even before he can register it fully he’s transversed over to Corvo to catch him before his body hits the carpet.

“The fuck are you doing, Corvo?” Daud hisses as he gently lowers Corvo down to the floor.

Corvo just blinks twice. Then he slightly raises his head, turning it slowly as if he’s noticing for the first time that he almost passed out cold, before his gaze settles on Daud’s face that’s hovering over him. Corvo looks like he wants to say something, but then he just yawns again. His soft brown eyes close for a moment before he rapidly blinks again, obviously having trouble keeping them open.

“You hurt?”

Corvo shakes his head.

“Just tired?”

A nod.

“Stubborn bastard,” Daud growls, pushing his arms under Corvo’s shoulders and legs to lift him up. Daud is a little annoyed that he has quite some troubles getting up with Corvo in his arms, but the man is massive, at least as tall as him and still garbed in his Royal Protector coat and weapons.

Daud carries Corvo over to his bed and carefully lays him down. He doesn’t protest as Daud takes away his weapons to place them on the nightstand. He brings Corvo into a slightly more sitting position with some more or less gentle nudges and takes off his boots and coat.

When Daud has managed to discard the heavy navy blue coat, he hesitates a moment, his mouth turned dry. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the buttons of Corvo’s vest. While he slowly unbuttons it, he is very much aware of Corvo’s soft brown gaze resting on his face, and he tries hard to keep his own eyes on his fingers as they open the garment and push it over his shoulders to place it next to the bed. Corvo is now only wearing a thin shirt and trousers, and he sinks deeper into the pillow.

“Educated guess… You’ve not slept for the entire time?” Daud asks.

Corvo nods, yawning again.

“Why was it that necessary to stay awake? You should know how not to overexert yourself,” Daud remarks dryly.

Corvo frowns and Daud notices that the man can’t answer his question with a simple nod or shake of his head, and he briefly chides himself for bringing Corvo into a situation like that.

“Complicated work?” Daud guesses, and Corvo nods, one hand rubbing the side of his face. “It looks like you’re in for a sleepover, then.”

Corvo nods again, and this time, tired as he looks, there’s a smile dancing across his lips, and he rolls to the side, reaching for the sheets. He covers himself, holding up one corner of the blanket, clearly an invitation.

Daud quickly turns around since he’s not sure what kind of expression just flickered across his face. He undresses, while Corvo probably watches, but strangely enough he doesn’t mind. When he’s only dressed in his underclothes he slips into the bed next to Corvo. Still unsure what to do, Daud opts for lying on his back next to Corvo, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

When he glances over to see what Corvo is doing, the bodyguard is already fast asleep, somewhat ungracefully sprawled halfway on his belly and on his side, his face hidden behind a mess of dark brown hair and snoring softly, and somehow he’s the most stupidly beautiful thing Daud has ever seen.

Daud reaches over and brushes the hair from Corvo’s face, and after a short hesitation his fingers carefully trace the scars that follow the sharp line of his jaw, and he can’t stop himself from brushing a thumb over Corvo’s cheek, his lips, his chin.

When Corvo’s eyes suddenly flicker open again under his touch, it’s too late for Daud to hide the embarrassingly wistful smile that he hasn’t realized being there, and Corvo manages to look incredibly smug and _knowing_ , the damn bastard, for a moment before he falls asleep again, curling closer into Daud. This time, Daud allows it, and it’s his turn to cast an arm across the other man before he drifts off as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

The next morning, they actually talk.

That is, Daud talks, and Corvo uses his mixture of gestures, grunts and his notepad, while they are sitting on the edge of the bed facing each other, each one with a cup of coffee in their hands after a night of surprisingly profound sleep.

It’s not as much of a torment as Daud had thought.

Well, a little.

“Emily said you’re still angry, but that you think I will make amends now that I’m here,” Daud says, carefully looking into his cup.

When he raises his gaze for a moment, he sees Corvo nod. Corvo then holds up a finger to indicate him to wait and writes on his notepad. It already carried quite a bit of text from their earlier conversation, most of it revolving around getting up and managing to retrieve some coffee from the kitchen without anybody noticing where and with whom exactly Corvo had spent the night.

After successfully accomplishing that, somewhat misusing some of their arcane powers, they had nestled on Daud’s bed to actually talk about their bond, and Daud finds that, as uncomfortable and horrifying as the entire concept of the situation is, he does enjoy Corvo’s company. He enjoys Corvo’s slightly furrowed brow when he struggles to bring a complicated train of thought on the paper as fast as possible, or when he simply huffs instead of bothering to write an answer, the lopsided curl of his mouth and the shine in his brown eyes expressive enough.

Still, Daud’s feelings of guilt sit buried deeply in his heart, eating at him in every waking moment. Sitting here with Corvo is a double-edged blade.

Corvo turns the notepad around.

_It’s not that I am angry. It’s just still there._

Daud does not have to ask what _it_ means. It’s Jessamine, it’s Corvo’s torture during his imprisonment, it’s Emily’s kidnapping, it’s his capture by the Whalers. It’s every scratch on his skin that Daud’s blade left while they dueled. It’s… _everything_. All the pain Daud has brought on his soulmate.

Daud simply nods, not trusting his voice.

Corvo tilts his head a little as if trying to see Daud’s eyes from a different angle, something troubled in his expression, then bends down and writes again.

_You didn’t know. It’s not like you did anything of that to me on purpose._

Somehow, reading those words is almost enough to break him.

That’s just it… Daud didn’t know. He didn’t know that Corvo was his soulmate, and if he had found out before he accepted the contract on Jessamine he could have stopped not only Dunwall from plunging into chaos but also his soulmate from suffering more than any human being could endure.

Daud’s clutching the cup so hard it’s a miracle it doesn’t crack. He avoids Corvo’s gaze, struggling for composure and squeezing his eyes shut. He feels a burning tightness in his chest that makes it hard to breathe and everything, _everything_ he’s done comes rushing back, and nothing he could ever do could possibly, remotely make this right, and it’s too much, it’s…

Daud barely notices how the cup is taken from his shaking hands and set aside, and then Corvo is embracing him, his large frame enveloping his shoulders. Daud just leans into Corvo, pressing close, and buries his face in the curve of his neck while he chokes on things nothing in the world could ever make right.

Corvo’s hand slowly rubs along his back, up and down again, and somehow that simple rhythmic touch is like an anchor that stops him from sinking, and slowly, he manages to calm a bit. Daud concentrates on breathing while his shoulders shake and his hands fist in Corvo’s shirt. He inhales the scent of Corvo’s skin, warm and already strangely familiar.

“I’m so sorry, Corvo…” he mutters quietly.

He feels Corvo nod against the side of his face. Corvo’s other hand slowly creeps up until it cradles the back of Daud’s head, fingers combing through his hair.

They stay like that for a while until Daud has stopped shaking and dares to look up again. Corvo’s expression is an odd mixture of a very annoying eyeroll and a compassionate smirk, and Daud has the wish to punch him and to hug him and never let go again simultaneously. He takes a deep breath and withdraws a little until he has the feeling his leftover dignity is not being threatened any more, but he stays close enough to Corvo to be within arm’s reach, their thighs touching as they sit.

“Sorry. I’m not very good at this,” he says apologetically.

Corvo grins and produces his notepad again.

_Have you had many relationships?_

It’s a very personal question that catches Daud slightly off guard, but after all, they do have a soulmate bond, and he feels the urge to be completely honest with Corvo.

“Not really. In fact, I’ve never been the kind for relationships. Not a very stable lifestyle, you know. Until now, now is different.”

At his last words, Corvo tilts his head again.

“I mean… _Now_ I have a somewhat stable lifestyle, here at the Tower. At least I don’t have to be prepared to pack my things and gather my men and leave within the hour because we are about to get wiped out by an army of Overseers or anything, any more,” he quickly adds, but it’s too late, Corvo already has that infuriatingly smug grin on his stupid beautiful face again.

Daud frowns. “What?”

Corvo just shakes his head slightly and turns back to the notepad.

_So no relationships? Anything else?_

Daud exhales and shrugs. “Occasional one night stands, nothing more. I don’t like sleeping next to other people, not in my line of work.”

One of Corvo’s eyebrows rises a little and he glances over at the crumpled bed sheets where he and Daud had slept curled into each other as closely as possible.

Daud feels a warm flush creeping up his face. “I didn’t really have a choice besides letting you sleep here, did I? If anyone would have seen me carrying an unconscious Royal Protector through the Tower, they would immediately have turned me into a pincushion with their crossbows.”

  _You could have placed me in one of the many comfortable cushioned chairs you have._

“Fuck you, Attano.”

Corvo chuckles and the sound is so unexpected that Daud’s face falls. He’s never heard Corvo laugh, in fact, he’s never seen Corvo actually happy let alone heard or seen him show it openly. But he chuckles, softly, and his eyes shine and Daud doesn’t feel mocked when he should be, he simply feels like he can spend the rest of his life listening to that sound and die happily while doing so.

His fists clench the bed sheet he’s sitting on and he forces himself to remain still while Corvo is writing again.

_What kind of woman does it take to catch the Knife of Dunwall’s fancy?_

The question is not asked to mock him, Daud is sure, since Corvo’s face is open and amused, as if he’s asking casually, out of curiosity. Still, Daud feels something like reluctance to answer. He’d never admit it, but he’s afraid, afraid of Corvo’s reaction. It costs him all his willpower to remain honest, but he’s sworn to himself to never lie to his soulmate. It’s the least he can do.

“In fact, no kind of woman takes my fancy,” Daud says, trying to sound self confident.

He’s never felt the need to justify himself. Among the Whalers, after all a bunch of misfits of one kind or another, unconventional sexual preference had been treated as normal. Furthermore, with the Overseers preaching the avoidance of the wanton flesh and Daud being the most sought-after heretic in the entire Empire, he’s developed a certain kind of pride for any treat of his that would violate the Seven Strictures, and sleeping with another man was something the Overseers were so deliciously infuriated about that Daud had never tried to hide his orientation. But now…

Corvo’s acceptance is something he’d never thought to be something so _fundamental_ to him. Daud forces himself to rest his gaze on Corvo’s face, watching the man’s expression carefully.

Corvo’s eyes widen a bit as he lets Daud’s words sink in, his eyebrows rise and he looks surprised. But, and this takes such a heavy load off Daud’s heart that he has to take a deep breath, Corvo looks surprised in a neutral way, not negatively, as if he hadn’t expected an answer like that, but does respect it anyway.

_So you’re into men?_

Daud nods.

Corvo smiles, still looking surprised, and then something gentle settles in his features, as if he can see that it took Daud quite some effort to admit this, as if he’s thankful for Daud’s honesty.

“You don’t mind?”

Corvo huffs and shakes his head vehemently. Daud feels like he’s melting with relief. He’d never thought that something like someone’s tolerance, something he very carefully never gave a shit about before, could fill him with such an essential, warm feeling of reassurance that he does not trust his voice for a moment, settling for a sincere, thankful nod. Corvo smiles and writes a few words.

_Why should I?_

“Good fucking question. Ask the Overseers and pretty much every uptight politician in the entire Empire,” Daud growls back and Corvo chuckles again.

It catches Daud offhandedly, but he suddenly feels the urge to ask Corvo about that too, even if he is very sure of Corvo’s orientation, with all the rumors of Corvo’s and Jessamine’s secret affair. Somehow, he’s afraid again, afraid to hear that Corvo is drawn only to women even if he has a male soulmate, even if Daud is telling himself that it won’t matter because he does not want _that_ , but he has to know. Daud is not sure what kind of relationship he wants with Corvo, if he can ever fully relax around him, if he can ever look into his eyes without pining away from seeing his own failure staring back at him. But he has to know.

 Mustering all of his willpower, he asks:

“Is Emily really your daughter?”

It’s a very personal question, but after all, Daud tells himself, if Corvo wants complete honesty, it needs to go both ways. Corvo stares him square in the eye and Daud makes himself hold the soft brown gaze that can be surprisingly piercing and intense and _testing_ , and then Corvo is writing again.

_Yes._

Something deep inside Daud’s chest breaks.

So that’s that. Daud’s not sure what he had hoped for, not sure if he had been unconsciously longing for a possibility to be with Corvo in _that_ way, but now that he knows it’s never going to happen, there’s nothing he wants more, nothing he _needs_ more to stop himself from falling to pieces.

 _Something_ must have shown on his face, because Corvo grunts and indicates him to wait, and he’s writing quickly, a longer message this time.

_I only had relationships with women so far, but I always asked myself how it would be if my soulmate was a man. What I would do then. I’m open to that._

Daud’s face must have been the epitome of surprised bafflement mixed with a sudden flicker of hope, because it’s Corvo’s turn to blush and quickly glance away and scribble frantically to add something.

_I mean, just hypothetically. I’m used to the thought._

The word _hypothetically_ is underlined a few times.

Corvo avoids Daud’s gaze, but Daud nevertheless catches the heated glimmer in his eyes. If Daud didn’t know better, didn’t know that it is most probably embarrassment, he’d describe it as desire.

Corvo is writing again, carefully avoiding Daud’s gaze, before he looks up again and shows him the notepad.

_You told me about the platonic bond the other day._

Daud nods.

“Yes. I am not sure what I want yet, to be honest. It’s all very… new. But I know that I don’t want to rush anything. I want to get to know you better,” Daud says carefully.

_A platonic bond then, unless we decide otherwise._

“Yes.”

A small smile dances across Corvo’s face, and Daud catches himself smiling too.

They remain seated on the edge of Daud’s bed, a little too close to not constantly be reminded of each other’s warmth, but neither of them moves away. The sunbeams floating in through the large windows of the Spymaster’s office make the dust glow and dance, and the two men drink their coffee in companionable silence.

The silence is broken by the scribbling sound of Corvo’s pen.

Daud sighs inwardly and rolls his eyes, but there is some odd kind of fondness behind it. Corvo talks more than he is used to even without a voice.

_It was weird at first._

Daud tilts his head a little.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Corvo hesitates, as if he’s considering to elaborate his vague statement or not, but then, after another squinty glance at Daud, he continues.

_Cuddling with you._

Oh.

Their two nights together in one bed must have been the first times Corvo ever slept that close to another man, Daud realizes. Now that he thinks back to the evening he asked Corvo to show him his soulmate mark, it must have been about as much emotional stress for Corvo as it has been for him, and still, he had made the move to offer him to sleep in his bed, allowed him to be close.

And that even though Corvo’s usually drawn to women.

Daud shoots Corvo a scrutinizing glance.

“Did you like it?”

Corvo’s pen hovers above the page, touches the paper, but then it is put back on the bed. Corvo glances back at Daud from the corner of his eye.

After a moment, he nods carefully, his gaze fixed on his leftover coffee.

“You are a mystery, Corvo Attano.”

And there’s Corvo’s soft laugh again, somewhat suppressed as if he’d like to laugh louder but doesn’t dare to laugh openly with his tongue missing, but still genuine, a low rumble in his chest. He’s shaking his head, and Daud has to smile too, despite himself.

“I _hate_ mysteries,” he snarls, but the smirk spreading on his face probably takes some of the sting from his words. Corvo nudges him with his elbow, again that infuriating knowing shine in his eyes. Then he gets up, and before he does so he gives Daud’s shoulder a little squeeze.

The touch leaves tingles in its wake and Daud has to willingly bring himself to breathe again. He watches Corvo stride over to Daud’s desk where he left his notes from last night after falling asleep right where he was standing, and continue sorting through his papers.

“So, you’re going to occupy my desk with your mess?”

Corvo briefly looks up and points a finger to himself, then to the door, a questioning look on his face.

“No, please. Stay. I’ll just continue my work on the floor, then. If the Empress does it her Spymaster can do that too, I assume,” Daud comes back sarcastically.

Corvo huffs and holds up a note.

_Want me to fetch you some crayons?_

“Oh fuck you, Corvo.”

Corvo chuckles and Daud walks up beside him, taking his chair and starting his own work, picking up his investigations on suspicious political rivals where he left off. While he does so he nudges Corvo a little to make some space for himself on the not very broad desk, and Corvo nudges back, and Daud can feel how much the damn bastard enjoys teasing him like that.

He doesn’t mind.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daud really needs to take sign language lessons.

**IV.**

“That’s all, Thomas. Thank you. Tell Rulfio I’ll look after the recruits as soon as I can.”

“Yes, Master Daud.”

Thomas places a hand on his chest and makes a little bow, back straight as an arrow, before he clenches his left fist and disappears in a warp of otherworldly shadows.

Daud returns to his desk and picks up the strange bolt Thomas has brought him, a model similar to the sleep darts he and his men use, but filled with an pink liquid that glows softly when exposed to sunlight. He has never seen anyone use something like it and the effect of its contents are unknown to him, but when his Whalers, now the Spymaster’s secret police in Dunwall, reported to him that they have found a hidden stash of the bolts buried in a sewer next to a bonecharm Daud had decided to investigate the matter. A couple of promising recruits had stumbled upon the strange pink darts on their patrol and Daud intends on questioning them personally later.

He places the mysterious dart, still glowing a soft rosy color in the sunlight that fills his office, back on his desk and braces himself on the littered surface, brooding over the papers with his back turned towards the door, when he hears a brusque knock.

“Come in,” Daud says, gaze fixed on his documents.

When he hears those footsteps he knows immediately who it is. The sound is unmistakable, the powerful, smooth stride of a massive, intimidating man that can be so incredibly silent. Daud feels a smile tug at his lips when Corvo walks into the room.

“Hello, Attano,” he says without turning around.

Daud can hear Corvo stopping briefly in his stride, and an image of the man’s surprised face appears in his mind.

“I know your footsteps, bodyguard,” Daud adds casually, by way of explanation. “What is it?”

Daud finally turns around to look at Corvo. The Royal Protector’s posture is agitated and tense, and he motions for Daud to follow him.

Daud frowns. “Anything wrong?”

Corvo just huffs and walks over to the door, turning back with an impatient expression and pointedly nodding his head to the exit again. Daud sighs and follows suit, not without grabbing a vial of Piero’s remedy and his wristbow from a side table beforehand and strapping the weapon to his left wrist, covering it neatly with a sleeve.

He has to hurry to keep up with Corvo’s fast stride. Whatever it is that he needs Daud’s attention for he seems to be eager to get going.

Worry grows inside Daud as he follows the Royal Protector’s broad back through the Dunwall Tower. He’d love to ask him about the matter, but Corvo seems to be so hurried to reach their destination that it seems futile to stop him, let alone have Corvo waste time to write it down.

They jog past Emily’s quarters, now vacant since the little Empress is off studying, through the high corridors illuminated by dusty sunlight, the conveniently large candelabras not switched on yet. Daud briefly turns to watch a group of workers remove the last parts of one of the walls of light that the Lord Regent had installed, now something the Empress doesn’t consider necessary any more, as determined as her mother to rule as peacefully as possible over her Empire.

Besides, she has Corvo.

They reach the entrance hall, all neat checkered tiles and red carpet contrasting beautifully with the blue Kaldwin banners. In the narrow antechamber right before the main gate Corvo stops. The man squeezes himself in a corner and beckons Daud to follow him while he glances around as if hiding from the sight of the very guards Corvo is responsible for.

This is getting more mysterious by the second, and Daud is not amused.

Daud stands next to Corvo, expectantly waiting for some kind of explanation. Instead of offering him one Corvo points to the ceiling of the antechamber where Daud can see the exit of an exhaust shaft, almost invisible in the shadows.

“So, what about it?” Daud asks, slowly getting agitated.

Corvo just grunts and makes a fist with his left hand.

His mark, covered by a strap of dark blue wool, glows in a flurry of gold and turquoise under the fabric and a heartbeat later Corvo is up on the thin ledge that runs along the ceiling and crawls into the exhaust shaft.

Daud slowly lets out his breath. Usually Corvo, the Whalers and he avoid using their arcane powers in public, but Daud doubts that this is the only reason why Corvo is acting so furtively. He calls the Void around him and transverses up behind Corvo, following him through the uncomfortably narrow, dusty shaft.

The tunnel leads outside. Daud can oversee the vast gardens of the Tower’s premises from high above the ground, the white walls bathed in the murky sunlight that manages to penetrate the thick cover of clouds. Corvo is standing next to him on the ledge, back pressed into the shadowy corner of the wall. While they have a good overview of the area, someone standing on the ground below them is unlikely to spot them, Daud notices immediately. Still, this being a good vantage point to watch over the area doesn’t answer why they’re here.

“May I ask what this is all about?” Daud ventures, approaching Corvo.

Corvo grunts and signals him to wait while he fumbles around in the pockets of his heavy coat. There are a lot, and he seems to be looking for something important. Daud notices that he already has his notepad in hand, but not the pen, and assumes that this is what Corvo is searching for with growing annoyance.

After a while Corvo gives up and shoots Daud a frustrated glare.

“Oh… No pen, huh?” Daud says, getting more and more uncomfortable. He knows Emily had taken sign language lessons together with Corvo, but Daud has not thought of attending them yet and he doesn’t know what any of the complicated gestures mean.

Corvo shakes his head, sighs and crosses his arms in front of his chest as he paces along the ledge, gaze turned upwards as if thinking about how to communicate with Daud without writing down his thoughts. Daud feels incredibly sorry for Corvo being in such a situation, but he doesn’t have a pen either.

“Well… Is it important?”

Corvo nods.

“No time to head back and ask a guard for a pen, I presume?”

Corvo shakes his head vehemently, his lips forming two syllables. Daud watches him with all the concentration he can muster.

“No guards?” he guesses. A raised thumb from Corvo has him sigh with relief. “Alright, I won’t tell anyone. Just the two of us. Just tell… I mean, signal me what to do.”

Corvo nods, slowly. He stands in front of Daud, gaze averted and eyebrows furrowed as he thinks of a way to explain himself, before he starts gesturing.

He starts by pointing to himself and then across the vast gardens surrounding the Tower, then he pulls out his blade and acts as if he’s sneaking along the ledge. Corvo points to the top of the Tower where the safe room of the Lord Regent used to be, a leftover from what was clearly the peak of Burrow’s paranoia besides the lighthouse, and then Corvo makes a stabbing motion.

“You… stab the regent?” Daud muses aloud while trying his best to understand to not embarrass Corvo any further. Corvo nods and motions with his hand for Daud to keep guessing. “You came here to kill the regent…”

At that, Corvo grunts approvingly and holds up a thumb. He then makes his mark glow, as if indicating that he’d been using it back then, and points to the narrow exhaust shaft they’ve just crawled through.

“When you came here you blinked up and used the exhaust shaft to get into the Tower,” Daud summarizes, and a strange warm flush of pride and satisfaction fills him when Corvo nods eagerly, looking relieved himself.

Corvo puts his foldable sword back with an incredibly casual and yet elegant motion, causing Daud to swallow heavily, and then the man seems to take time to think about how to express himself again. Daud is asking himself what all of this is about, but for now he opts for letting Corvo think.

“I’m just the Spymaster, but that exhaust shaft seems like quite the security gap to me…” Daud muses while Corvo is still struggling for fitting gestures. At his words, the other man suddenly makes an excited sound and grabs the sides of Daud’s arms, staring at him with an eager smile.

Daud knows he’s getting closer to understand what Corvo is so worried about, and manages to ignore the infuriating warm fluttering that erupts in his stomach at Corvo’s touch and instead tries to guess further.

“You want to close the damn thing? Sounds like a good idea to me. Anyone could slip in just like you did,” he says. Corvo lifts a finger, furrowing his brow. Not quite correct, then. Daud watches as Corvo walks to the edge of the ledge and blinks away in a flurry of Void blue over to the metal roof of the guard station opposite of their location and blinks back again.

“A person with our abilities could reach the exhaust shaft,” Daud summarizes, and this time Corvo’s almost hugging him, but just _almost_ , an excited look on his face and his hands firmly, warmly squeezing the sides of Daud’s arms.

Daud tries very hard not to smile stupidly back at him and instead follows that train of thought which is worrying enough to ground him again. “You think there could be assailants with our abilities around?”

Corvo’s smiling face morphs into something thoughtful and unsure, brows drawn together and dark brown eyes narrowed. He shrugs and wiggles one of his hands around.

“You’re not sure.”

A nod.

“Any serious suspects?”

Corvo looks insecure again and gives another shrug. Great.

Daud sighs. “Don’t you dare start getting paranoid, Attano. That’s the Spymaster’s job.”

Corvo grunts, the hint of a smirk playing across his features, and nudges Daud’s arm. He then visibly starts thinking again, as if he’s preparing another guessing game for Daud to explain his concerns further. Daud is on the one hand strangely content to spend some time alone with a Royal Protector asking for his help, and on the other hand he’s growing increasingly pissed that he doesn’t know where Corvo is going with that.

So far, Corvo seems to have discovered some security breaches in the Tower’s defenses, overly protective father that he is, but he’s also thinking that only intruders with supernatural abilities could make use of those breaches and thus asked Daud for help, the only other person in the Tower with a deep understanding for arcane matters. Also, Corvo doesn’t seem to be sure whether he can expect such an assault to actually happen in the first place or not.

Daud cocks his head, crosses his arms and raises one eyebrow, waiting for Corvo to sign him what he’s expecting of him.

Corvo shoots him a glare and starts gesturing again. He points to Daud and then to a small ledge a bit higher above them on the edge of a roof, and then holds a hand above his eyes and squints while he scans the gardens. Corvo then points to himself and makes a succession of exaggerated movements that all seem to have to do with climbing or sneaking while looking left and right a lot.

Corvo looks like an amateur actor in a crappy theatre play trying to act like a very cliché bank robber. It gets worse as he slips into the role of the observer on the roof again, acting as if he just spotted what looked like the world’s worst bank robber sneaking around.

Daud knows this is something very serious for Corvo, he _knows_ it, and he wants to help, he _really_ wants to. But Corvo, bulky muscular Corvo, is looking so ridiculous while playing his charade that Daud cannot help the smirk slowly spreading on his face.

He bites his tongue to stop it, but when Corvo switches back to his role as Terrible Bank Robber Who Apparently Can Use Tethering, he loses it, and a short, choked laugh escapes him.

Corvo’s head snaps around at the sound and he immediately stops in his motion. The soft brown eyes settle on Daud, narrowing slowly, and something dangerous settles in his features.

Daud is desperately trying to suppress the laugh that threatens to erupt and presses the back of one hand against his mouth, but as much as he tries, he can’t stop the hoarse chuckle. It gets worse when Corvo straightens up and shoots him an incredibly indignant, _sulky_ glare, and somehow that makes it even harder to fight the urge to laugh, and before Daud can stop himself he’s shaking uncontrollably, a rough, choked giggle escaping behind the hand he still presses to his mouth.

Once he has started, he can’t stop. While Daud is losing his leftover self control he can hear Corvo stride over to him, and he knows the man’s angry, and he hates himself for laughing, for laughing at Corvo when he’s just trying to make himself understood, and Daud hopes Corvo will punish him for this, because he deserves it.

Corvo stops right in front of Daud who is still hoarsely laughing against the back of his hand while his chest starts hurting and he mumbles inarticulate apologies, but then…

When Daud mentally gets ready to be shoved from the ledge, he hears a faint sound, hoarse and short and sounding unintentional, he manages to look up, blinking a stray tear away.

Corvo is grinning widely, and his shoulders start to tremble too. He shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair, as if admitting to himself how ridiculous he must have looked, and then there’s the sound again, Corvo’s soft, deep chuckle.

It comes so unexpectedly that Daud can feel another wave of laughter building in his chest, tense and aching from his constant struggle to suppress it, and Corvo mirrors him, smirking, before he starts laughing openly, holding his belly. He laughs, and the sound is so strange coming from _him_ , the sad, stoic Royal Protector, betrayed by everyone, from the man who has sacrificed more than anyone else to save the Empire, and Corvo laughing is the most mesmerizing thing Daud has ever witnessed.

Corvo slumps down on the ledge and leans against the wall, and Daud joins him, his whole body aching and brimming with utter bliss at the same time. They spend an embarrassingly long time just sitting next to each other, giggling uncontrollably like two drunkards after the Fugue Feast.

After a while, Daud tries to form words, his sore voice sounding even harsher than usual and interrupted by occasional chuckles. “Sorry, Corvo. I’m an idiot.”

Corvo just smirks and playfully punches Daud’s shoulder before showing him the finger. 

“Yeah, I guess I deserve that.” Daud sees Corvo nod and he nudges him back. Corvo shows him his middle finger again and Daud just takes the offending hand in his, pushing it down to Corvo’s thigh. Daud makes to let go again, but Corvo’s fingers are curled around his, and so he just leaves his hand there.

Corvo, still shaking from some last stray giggles, lets himself slump slightly to the side and leans his head against Daud’s shoulder, taking a few deep breaths. Daud wants to lean into him, wrap his arm around Corvo, rest his head against his and inhale the scent of his hair, he _wants_ to, but… But he doesn’t.

Something inside him feels sore and shattered when he thinks of how happy Corvo must have been with Jessamine, with Emily, and how often he must have been fooling around with his daughter, laughing like he did now, and how the past months have managed to break his heart multiple times, leaving scars in the man’s soul that taint every one of his smiles, the deeply rooted sorrow always visible behind the soft, hazel eyes.

Seeing Corvo happy is a double edged blade, because it reminds Daud of… Of everything. Of the life Daud has taken away from Corvo, and that no matter what he does, his soulmate will never be as happy as he had been back then.

A gentle squeeze of Corvo’s hand around his interrupts Daud’s train of thought and he looks up. Corvo smiles and nods his head towards the garden, signaling Daud to focus on their task again, whatever that is.

“Yes, sure. Let’s get back to work.”

They stand up and Corvo draws his blade, pointing to Daud and then to the roof a few floors higher, before he starts acting like he’s sneaking again, but less exaggerated this time. Still, they exchange an occasional knowing smirk while Corvo gestures and Daud guesses which makes Daud feels strangely warm and comfortable.

Daud pulls himself together this time and tries his best to understand what Corvo means. After a while, he figures it out.

Corvo wants to test different vantage points and possible security breaches, mostly exhaust shafts, ventilation covers and drainage pipes, and see if an assailant that is able to use magical abilities can enter them without being spotted. Daud acts as sentry and watches while Corvo makes his way from the far wall overlooking the Wrenhaven river to the possible entrance, blinking and slipping from cover to cover. After that Daud reports to him how convenient the respective path is for such a maneuver, and then they repeat it with Daud watching from another point, and then again with Corvo taking a different path.

They spend the good portion of the day testing a number of blind spots all around the Tower that way, Daud watching and Corvo sneaking around. When Corvo gets tired around noon, the mark on his hand flickering nervously like a candle in a breeze, Daud offers him his vial of Piero’s remedy and Corvo accepts it with a thankful squeeze of his shoulder.

They continue some more, and by afternoon Corvo has decided that a number of drainage pipes are in dire need of proper grates, some ventilation covers need locks and some exhaust shafts are straight up useless and should be sealed completely.

Apparently satisfied, Corvo makes to turn towards the doors of the Tower to enter, but Daud, following a spontaneous impulse, holds him back.

“Wait. There’s another safety gap you should check,” he says, asking himself why he does it.

Corvo waits, surprised, but returning his gaze expectantly.

Daud hesitates. He is already regretting the offer he is about to make, afraid of the feelings it might drag back up, afraid that it will spoil the surprisingly positive mood that has settled between him and his soulmate. But Daud also feels that Corvo needs to know. Daud has to tell Corvo, to show him that he is willing to help, that he is truly, _honestly_ willing to leave his past behind, to devote his abilities and knowledge fully to the Empire. To devote himself entirely to Corvo, as lousy as he might be at that.

“When my Whalers and I came to the Tower, back then…” he starts, hesitantly, and painfully notices the immediate change in Corvo’s expression. Daud forces himself to continue. “There’s a point at the waterlock that can’t be overlooked by any sentry on the walls, and a door with broken hinges leading to the roof that can’t be locked properly. That’s where we…”

He swallows thickly. “… Where we came in.”

That’s where he and his men came in to kill Jessamine, and kidnap Emily. It had been so easy with their magical powers, a walk in the park, Daud remembers, and the path his scouts had figured out had been a very convenient one, allowing them to infiltrate, reach their target and leave again within mere minutes.

Daud forces himself not to think of Corvo’s face when he had driven his blade into Jessamine’s chest. He fails.

Daud manages to hold Corvo’s stare for a few heartbeats before he can’t take it any longer and averts his eyes, the feelings of regret and guilt wrenching the blood from his heart and filling his chest with a burning pain.

To think that he had been fooling around with Corvo just a few hours before, heard the man laugh together with him, content and familiar… And now Corvo is staring at him with that sorrow back in his eyes, reminded again of the incarnation of misery itself that happens to be his soulmate.

It seems to Daud he’s only good for causing pain, and nothing else.

He turns around and makes to leave, clenches his fist as he summons the Void’s powers.

A hand on his shoulder makes him stop, and the gold and turquoise glow flickers and fades.

Daud turns a little, but he doesn’t dare to look at Corvo, afraid of what he might see in the man’s eyes.

Corvo surprises him, again.

Strong arms embrace Daud from behind and Corvo’s large frame envelops his, pressing close against Daud’s back, warm breath ghosting against the back of his neck. Daud stiffens up, every muscle in his body tense and on edge. He squeezes his eyes shut, wants to shove the other man away and vanish. He doesn’t deserve this, he just doesn’t. He didn’t even deserve to be spared by Corvo when they had fought. He doesn’t deserve the gentleness and warmth, hearing the sound of Corvo’s laughter when Daud is the main reason for his tears.

Corvo pulls back and gently turns Daud around until they are standing face to face. A finger creeps under his chin and tilts his head up until he’s looking at Corvo’s face, and Daud is baffled to see not only the expected sadness, but also something else, something indescribable, warm and reassuring. As if Corvo can read Daud’s mind, as if he knows how much pain it causes Daud to be reminded of the guilt that is still weighing him down, Corvo smiles softly, and mouths two syllables.

_Thank you._

Daud just stares, unbelieving. He manages a nod.

A warm palm briefly touches the side of Daud’s neck, and then Corvo is gone, dissolved in a flurry of light blue. Daud turns and spots Corvo a distance away as he makes his way to the waterlock, probably to inspect the damn safety gap Daud has just told him about to make sure it can be closed so that nobody is able to access the Tower as easily as the Whalers had, back then.

Daud takes a deep breath and blinks rapidly a few times, turns away from the garden and makes his way into the Tower.

He does not expect Corvo to ever forgive him entirely, but today…

Today he’s been reminded that the Royal Protector is full of surprises, and a tiny part of Daud buried deeply in the darkest corners of his heart actually dares to _hope_.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**V.**

The match Daud has just lit flickers in the murky darkness of his office, and he relights the candles that have been extinguished by the wind howling through the open window.

Rulfio is out and away again, looking after the Whalers, after having given his report to Daud. The alchemist among his men, a young Whaler named Jenkins who is so disturbingly enthusiastic about poisons, explosives and any other kind of deadly chemical substance that he manages to sometimes even creep out his Master, had been ordered to investigate the strange darts. One of them, the pink liquid inside still glowing softly, is lying on Daud’s desk, unused since Daud does not know what the contents are capable of. Jenkins is working on the darts in his laboratory, but so far there have been no results.

Daud turns the dart over in his fingers, very similar in build to the ones he uses himself, but thinner and more streamlined, some parts of it made of wood and not of metal, which gives it an oddly _organic_ look. The pointy tip is slightly slanted and reminds him of the thorns some plants carry on their stems. The fletching doesn’t look like feathers, more like fur. Or thistle seeds.

Daud places it back on the desk with a disapproving frown – just another mystery, after all – and picks up a stack of papers instead.

He tries to focus enough to read, but it’s no use. It’s almost midnight, and he is getting awfully tired. He is not expecting Corvo to show up anyway, so Daud starts to get ready for bed.

After Corvo’s and Daud’s teamwork in the Tower gardens, Daud had expected Corvo to withdraw from him after reminding Corvo of the Whalers’ assault. Corvo, constant enigma that he is, had surprised Daud with the warm embrace and the thankful, if sad smile afterwards, throwing Daud completely out of balance. Despite that gesture Daud had expected his soulmate to keep his distance, but surprisingly, the opposite had happened.

Maybe it was because of the stupid fit of laughter they had shared. Daud is not sure, he has little to no experience with… things like that. But thinking back to that day makes heat pool low in his stomach, and as irritating as it is, he likes it.

For whatever reasons, Corvo had taken to show up in Daud’s office more regularly, sometimes around noon with a tray of lunch or a coffeepot, sometimes after dark, knocking softly against the window while he crouches on the sill like an oversized raven and waits for Daud to open it.

They met and drank coffee or wine and talked, using voice, paper and hands, about the court, about Emily’s or the Whalers’ antics, respectively, and quickly Daud found out that Corvo was smart and eloquent. It was the kind of cunning shrewdness that told him Corvo was somebody who had never been privileged enough to receive an expensive education like noble children do, but earned all he knew himself, by listening, by reading and fighting for it with sweat and blood out on the street. It was the same kind of education Daud had gotten, and it astounds him how much they seem to have in common under the surface.

Daud undresses and places his clothes on a chair next to the bed, the latter an unmade mess, and feels a smile pulling at his lips when he sees the pile of pillows on it, most of them belonging to Corvo.

Corvo sometimes stays for a sleepover.

It doesn’t happen often, but it does, and when it does Daud is torn between feeling horribly tense and on edge simply because of the very concept of the embodiment of all of his mistakes lying next to him, peaceful and content and _too close_ , and a strange, warm thrill that always accompanies the thought of having a soulmate of his own.

As much as it unsettles him sometimes, Daud also enjoys it, as simple as it is, enjoys just lying next to Corvo, curled against him to keep each other warm and listening to the sounds of Corvo’s breathing.

Today, though, Daud is sure Corvo is not going to show up at his place. After a council meeting at court he’d heard Corvo being ordered away by Captain Curnow, and Daud knows from times in which perching in the shadow of a chimney waiting for the change of guards still belonged to his daily life as an assassin that City Watch business tends to take forever.

So Daud is going to sleep alone. Somehow, that thought becomes more disappointing every time.

Luckily, before Daud’s thoughts can run loose and follow that particular dangerous path, somebody tentatively knocks on his door.

Daud, standing in front of his bed dressed only in thin trousers and a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, frowns and glances at the clock. It’s almost eleven in the night. He quickly does a mental check of his schedule.

He’s not expecting anyone, so he briefly calls for the Void’s assistance and blinks as the world turns blue, the softly glowing fireplace a blaze of white and the candles small dots of light.

A short figure with thin arms and legs is standing in front of Daud’s door, reaching up to turn the doorknob.

Daud rolls his eyes.

“Come in.”

The door opens and Empress Emily Kaldwin pokes her head in. She is wearing a white nightshirt with neat ruffles at the seam and thin white trousers, her short black hair messier than usual. Under her arm, she clutches a book.

“Good evening, your Highness,” Daud says with a sarcastic little bow. “What brings you here at this time of the night, if I may ask? A late study session?”

Emily doesn’t answer. She closes the door behind her and pads over to Daud. She’s not wearing shoes, he notices, as if she had already been in bed and then got up again. Also, she avoids his gaze, looking almost shy, if he judges her expression correctly. The latter is strange, because Emily usually either wears her child-acting-like-an-adult mask or that excited, slightly worrying smile that always speaks of trouble.

He tilts his head. “Your Highness?”

Emily stops in front of him, gaze fixed stubbornly on her feet. Then she lifts the book a little and holds it in front of her chest, like a shield.

“Daud…” she begins, very quietly, and Daud starts to get seriously worried. “Could you… Could you read me a story?”

Daud is suddenly very glad that Corvo is not here to witness this, because the face he’s making would probably be enough for Corvo to tease him for weeks.

Finally, Daud finds his voice. “Your Highness… Aren’t you a little too old for bedtime stories?”

It’s a low blow, he notices immediately. Questioning Emily’s imperial competence by reminding her that she is, indeed, very young compared to the rest of the court is something she can be very touchy about. She lifts her head and shoots him a pouty glare, but then, shortly after, lowers her gaze again, shuffling her feet.

“Lord Pyne was mean to me during court. Corvo made him shut up, but he still said something very unfriendly to me before Corvo could stop him and it was… I didn’t like it. It was mean. I can’t sleep.”

Daud just nods. He’s witnessed Emily in court, the stoic Royal Protector standing behind her like some massive shadow in human form, impressive even more so without his voice, and his presence gives Emily courage. She is intelligent for her age, and infuriatingly shrewd, and Daud knows she often outsmarts nobles and politicians many times her age, but sometimes…

Sometimes her subjects don’t play along, and forget to treat her as the Empress she is.

She hates that, Daud knows, and Corvo hates it even more, but it happens.

“Don’t you have Callista to read stories for you?” Daud asks, a last attempt to get away from this.

Emily kicks a dust flake across the carpet. “It’s not the same. Corvo used to read me a story when I was upset, but now…”

Daud is pretty sure getting stabbed in the guts is not as painful as her words, said with that thin, lost voice.

Emily looks up, and her deep, dark brown eyes look so much like Corvo’s, pleading and gentle and sad. “I miss the sound of Corvo’s voice. Yours sounds a little like his, so I thought… Maybe… Please, Daud.”

She could command him to read for her, Daud realizes. But she doesn’t. She’s not here as Empress Kaldwin, she’s here as Emily, the little girl that misses her father’s voice.

Taking a deep breath, Daud bends down and takes the book from her outstretched arms.

“Of course, Emily. Let’s go sit on the sofa.”

A smile dances across Emily’s face and she makes a triumphant little jump before she skitters over to Daud’s big, cushioned sofa in front of the fireplace. Daud briefly strides over to his bed and picks up a thick, woolen blanket. It’s the first item he had bought upon coming to Dunwall, so many years ago, back then not used to the cold weather and constantly freezing. The blanket had spared him from the cold during the rainy nights. The blanket is a weathered, clumsy thing, covered in patches and washed so often that the original color, a deep, dark burgundy, has been turned into a pale, soft shade of red, like raw hagfish meat. Daud still keeps it, though. He’s never owned something warmer.

Now, he sits next to Emily on the couch, draping the blanket over her so that she doesn’t get cold. Daud places the book on his lap and studies the title. It’s a pretty big book with a colorful illustration of an old-fashioned pirate ship in full sails on the cover, the pages worn and dog-eared as if the book had already been read a hundred times. It probably had, he muses.

While Daud looks at the book, he suddenly feels tiny hands trace over his right arm where Emily is sitting, causing him to flinch violently. When he turns his head sharply he notices that she is looking at his tattoos with a fascinated expression on her face. He struggles not to snatch his arm away immediately.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” she says, running her index finger over the black patterns, interrupted here and there by scars.

“Well, they are usually covered by clothing,” Daud answers, feeling a little uncomfortable under her childish obtrusiveness, even if he knows she doesn’t mean harm.

“They are very pretty.”

Daud blinks, taken aback.

“… Thanks,” he manages eventually.

Emily smiles and traces the intricate patterns with her finger, all of them tiny geometrical figures forming elegantly interwoven lines and symmetrical knots that follow Daud’s muscles and cover most of his skin.

“What do they mean? They look so different from the patterns on the curtains and furniture here in court, and the sailors with tattoos I’ve seen usually have mermaids and harpoons and such.”

Daud hesitates for a moment.

“They are inspired by the ornaments in the old stone temples in the Pandyssian jungles.”

Emily’s head snaps up, and her eyes sparkle excitedly. “You have been to Pandyssia?”

Daud chuckles briefly. “I kind of have, but not directly. The patterns were depicted in books about Pandyssia, written by scientists that made it back alive.”

Emily looks slightly confused. “Have you been there or not?”

“My mother was from Pandyssia. I was still in her belly when she left. I was born on Serkonos.”

Emily scrambles to sit up and braces herself on his arm and thigh to get a better view of Daud, apparently with great interest.

“How did your mother come here?”

Daud feels a lopsided smile tug at his lips and stares into the fire. In fact, he’d never come to ask his mother whether the stories about her origin were true, but he had enjoyed them a lot when he was young. He was taken away from her before he grew up old enough to question their truth.

“She always told me she was captured by pirates and managed to take over the ship. She ordered the crew to bring her to Serkonos where she settled down and had me, and ran a store for healing potions, herbs and poisons. Because of that, people used to think she was a witch.”

“Your mother was a _pirate captain_ and a _witch_?!?” Emily all but yells at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement and awe and her tiny hands clasping his arm almost painfully.

Daud can’t stop himself from chuckling again. “Apparently. That’s what people thought, anyway. To me, she was just my mother.”

“You have to tell me! Everything!” Emily pleads.

Daud turns his gaze into the fire again. Thinking about his past is something he rarely does, and every time it’s a bittersweet experience. Too many chapters in his history are dark and sealed away in the deepest corners of his memory, and he prefers to keep them there.

“I’d rather read you a story, Emily. Maybe I’ll tell you about my mother some other time.”

Surprisingly, Emily nods, a sincere, knowing expression on her face as if she understands exactly what Daud means. “Does it make you sad?”

 _Yes_.

“A little melancholic, maybe.”

“I see.” Apparently content with his offer, Emily traces his tattoos again. “Are they just on your arm and hand?”

“No, actually they cover most of my shoulders and back, and continue on the other arm,” Daud answers, holding up his left arm with the Outsider’s mark for her to see.

“I want to see them all! Please Daud!” Emily asks, shaking his arm a little. Daud barely moves a muscle, he just blinks at her.

Her curiosity is just as infinite as Corvo sometimes complains about, even though his eyes glitter with deep fondness every time he does so. Daud is not so sure he likes that particular trait of Emily’s as much as Corvo does. The youngest Whalers he picked up from the street might have been her age, but he was their master, not a subordinate, and nobody ever requested for him to read stories or show them his tattoos.

Eventually he manages to speak again. “I’d rather not take my shirt off right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Are you cold?”

“A little,” Daud lies.

Emily nods and the sofa wobbles as she pushes herself up on her knees, picking up the heavy woolen blanket. Grunting with the effort, she manages to lift the blanket enough to flop a corner of it over Daud’s lap, who raises his hands slightly in surprise. Emily draws the blanket up to his belly and leans over him to tuck the blanket under his thigh on his other side before she presses close to Daud’s right flank again, now both huddling under the blanket.

“Better?”

“Erm… yes. Thank you.”

“Good.” Emily reaches for the book and flips it open with the help of a bookmark. “This is where I left off. It’s about the pirate Bonny Roberts, captain of the _Nightshade_.”

Daud regards the page Emily is pointing to. Besides the text, it shows a drawing of a rather boisterous looking young woman in a dark blue coat, wearing a tricorn with a bushy purple feather and holding up a saber while she’s standing on the prow of a ship with her pirates assembled around her. The ship as well as the pirate crew’s clothing seems very out of fashion, the hull made out of wood instead of metal and powered by sails, not by whale oil engines. The woman reminds Daud oddly of Lizzy Stride, concerning her tomboyish pose and attire, but with her black hair and the brown eyes she looks a bit like Emily.

“It’s my favorite story,” Emily elaborates.

“I thought so.”

Emily huddles a little closer. “You can start reading now,” she informs Daud.

Daud clears his throat and, as awkward as he feels about this, starts reading. Whenever he flips a page he can see Emily stare at the illustrations from the corner of his eye, her face almost comically mirroring the expressions of the depicted characters. When Daud reaches a section of dialogue, Emily interrupts him.

“You need to change your voice when you read the different persons. Peter the powder monkey sounds a lot different from the Duke of Bastillian or Captain Bonny.”

Daud squints down at Emily. “ _No_.”

Emily pouts. “Corvo always changed the voices.”

Daud sighs. “I can’t do female voices.”

“ _Please_!”

Daud rolls his eyes, takes a deep breath and reads on. His version of the lighter voices, like young Peter or Captain Bonny Roberts, are not only harsh on his throat but also probably sound incredibly ridiculous and again, he’s glad Corvo is not there. Emily giggles quietly at his attempts at voicing Captain Bonny, but Daud feels that Emily is not mocking him, she’s just enticed so deeply in the story with her obvious admiration for the female pirate captain, and hearing Captain Bonny outsmart the shady merchant of a Tyvian trading galley makes her laugh triumphantly.

Daud would not admit it under torture, but somehow, a part of him likes this. It feels good seeing little Emily, often so sad behind the costume of an Empress she has to wear, happy and joyful and as the child that she is. After being taken away from his mother Daud’s all in all very happy childhood had ended, much like Emily’s when she lost her mother, and it makes him oddly proud that he is able to do something she finds enjoyable, as little as it might be.

They finish another chapter, and Daud feels himself getting drowsy. He’d love to go to sleep but feels that as long as Emily is still awake, he needs to keep on until she is tired and comfortable enough to go to bed. Each time he interrupts himself to stifle a yawn Emily yawns too, and vice versa. After a while, when the story reaches a very scary scene in which Captain Bonny and her crew fight off a terrible sea monster, he can feel Emily curl in on herself, eyes wide.

The sudden weight on his thighs makes Daud freeze.

Without a warning, Emily has crawled into his lap, her head pressed against his chest, her legs pulled up and her small hands hugging his right arm.

Daud has to fight the urge to pick her up and put her back on her spot next to him, but she’s curled so closely against him while still staring at the illustration of the sea monster that he doesn’t have the heart to do so. Instead, he rearranges the blanket so that it covers Emily and him, and now she’s huddling in a nest made of wool and Daud, both of them warm and yawning.

Drowsily, Daud reads the spectacular finale, a battle at sea that the pirates win by a hair’s breadth. Strangely, Emily’s usual whoops of joy don’t happen, and when Daud squints down at her he sees that she’s finally asleep.

On his lap. _Great_.

He places the book next to him and carefully, gently tries to pry Emily from his lap, but when he does so she furrows her brow and makes a protesting little mewling noise, clutching his arm tighter.

“Emily, you need to go to your bed now,” he whispers.

Emily mewls again and curls closer into Daud.

Daud sighs and briefly considers simply getting up and carrying her to her quarters, but that might wake her up, and he’s not sure he can read another page without passing out cold.  Furthermore, the thought of the long walk through the dark corridors full of patrolling guards asking pesky questions is warring with the simple solution of just staying where he is. The glowing coals in the fireplace are radiating warmth, the sofa is soft and comfortable, his limbs feel like lead and he is so damn sleepy that the latter thought wins.

Daud cradles Emily a little closer so that she doesn’t slip from his lap, lets his head sink back and allows himself to drift off.

* * *

 

Corvo stifles a yawn with the back of his hand without stopping in his stride. His feet hurt and the weapons attached to his belt feel heavy as they bump against his hip, and he just wants to go to bed. Frowning, he thinks back to the tedious meeting with the City Watch captain he’s just coming from, way after midnight. Apparently Emily is the only other person in the entire Tower that considers taking sign language lessons, and thus discussing watch business, something that went much more smoothly and easily before, has become a frustrating test for his patience each time.

Captain Curnow, as hard as the man tries to adapt, tends to ignore the fact that Corvo can’t interrupt him vocally. Usually, for Emily and everyone else, a raised hand means he wishes the person he’s talking to to pause, and most people do, but Curnow does not, and it feels as infuriating for Corvo as it humiliates him.

Daud, on the other hand, had understood that thing very early on. He falls silent when Corvo bids him to do so, and never turns his back to ignore the only way Corvo’s able to make himself understood. Curnow and a lot of particularly obnoxious nobles tend to do so, even if they probably don’t realize how much they insult Corvo with that. Even Emily sometimes ignores Corvo that way during her rare childish tantrums. Daud never does.

Corvo stops his brisk walk briefly when he thinks about Daud and, after a short pause, decides to check on him first before going to see if Emily’s in bed. It’s a shorter distance to his quarters anyway, he tells himself.

Since Daud’s help in the Tower garden, his soulmate had been radiating a mess of contradicting feelings when around Corvo, and Corvo is still carefully trying to figure out a way to behave around Daud without agitating him even further while also reassuring the man of the fact that it’s not necessary to wallow in regret every time Corvo looks at him. He knows revealing the way Daud’s Whalers had infiltrated the Tower must have been incredibly hard for Daud, and ever since the thick wall that always seems to be wrapped tightly around Daud’s self has hardened even further, but there is… something else. There are _cracks_ in that wall that haven’t been there before, with _something_ shining through, something fragile and hesitant and so vague and brief that Corvo can never fully get a grasp of it before the crack closes again.

Corvo is fully aware of Daud’s regret and feelings of guilt, knows that it eats at him in every waking moment, that it _consumes_ him, and there were times in which Corvo was satisfied about that, because Daud deserved it.

He’s not feeling like that anymore.

The cracks in the barrier around Daud confuse Corvo, and even more so do the moments in which Daud offers him the last sip of coffee, or visibly fights a smile when Corvo teases him, or allows him to slip into bed next to him. Daud’s body language is a contradicting mixture of agitation and discomfort mingling with something desperate, content and longing, and Corvo feels how much Daud enjoys his company, and how badly he tries not to.

_I know a great deal, bodyguard._

Corvo stares at those words every time he undresses and glimpses himself in the mirror, head craned back over his shoulder to stare at the words written on his spine. There were times in which he’s cursed these words tying him to a man he should, _just in theory_ , hate with all his heart, but now… Not anymore.

Corvo stops in front of Daud’s quarters, unsure if he should knock first. Daud is probably asleep already and he’s afraid to wake him, so he briefly opens his inner eye and the world turns red.

Inside the Royal Spymaster’s quarters, Corvo spots the familiar form of Daud sitting in front of the fire, slumped together and strangely bulky as if he’s carrying something on his lap. Corvo assumes that he’s sleeping while briefly wondering why his silhouette looks so weird and slips inside the candlelit room.

Corvo sneaks over to the sofa in front of the hearth, the wood reduced to softly glowing embers. He sees Daud’s head from behind, and smiles briefly when he realizes that he has indeed fallen asleep on the sofa, the candles on the side table next to it almost burned down.

Corvo walks around to face him when his jaw drops open and he forgets to breathe.

_What the…_

Corvo stands there for a few moments, completely dumbstruck as he lets the scene sink in.

Daud’s bulky silhouette in Corvo’s dark vision results from none other than Emily’s small form. She is curled into a ball on Daud’s lap, her head resting on Daud’s broad chest, clutching his right arm, his left arm cradling her against him. Emily’s favorite storybook lies open next to Daud’s knee, the bookmark placed a considerable amount of pages further. A red woolen blanket covers both of them while they sleep peacefully as if the entire situation is not the most absurd thing Corvo’s ever witnessed.

Corvo blinks a few times to make sure he’s not dreaming, then he narrows his eyes and peeks out of the window into the night to check if the sky is dark and starry and not the eternal pale blue of the Void. Also, there are no floating chunks of roads and whales going on, so he can dismiss the spontaneous idea that everything might just be another example of the Outsider’s questionable sense of humor.

It appears that actually, Daud had been reading stories to Emily, and they have both fallen asleep while doing so.

Something inside Corvo, something sore and scarred from all the times he had been betrayed, rebels at the thought of Emily, the only connection to the woman he loved left in this world, lying in the arms of the man who killed her mother. Corvo briefly feels a flare of anger erupting inside him, but just as fast as it appears, it also subsides again, like a straw fire, hot and painful, but not lasting and leaving cold, bitter ash in its wake. Corvo chides himself for feeling that way, when Daud apparently went to great lengths to make up for everything, above all his earlier admission, making him feel obviously miserable. And now this… Corvo can feel the careful, wary distance between Daud and Emily whenever they are forced to interact, even though he knows Emily doesn’t hold a grudge against Daud personally. Young as she is, she understand that it has been Burrow’s plot, Burrow’s cruel scheming, that killed her mother and tortured Corvo and plunged Dunwall into chaos, and that Daud had merely been a tool, not the hand that wielded it. Still, Emily hasn’t warmed up to him, understandably, and it seems Daud’s new role as Corvo’s soulmate is something she’s much fussier about than Daud’s past.

Apparently, Corvo had been wrong about them, at least partly.

Still having a hard time to believe what he’s seeing, he briefly thanks himself for checking on Daud first instead of going to Emily’s quarters. Finding her bed empty would have turned him into a nervous wreck, tired and worn out as he already was.

He shakes his head to get his senses together and forces himself to stop just standing there and stare. Corvo carefully approaches them and gently pushes the blanket down. When he touches Emily’s sides to pick her up, she curls up tighter and grumbles softly, and Daud furrows his brow, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“If you wake her up I swear I’m going to kill you with my bare hands. It took me forever to make her fall asleep,” he rumbles, his husky voice drowsy and low.

Corvo frowns, but can’t stop the corners of his mouth to turn into a touched little smirk. All in all, as absurd as the whole situation is, something inside his heart lights up brightly at the thought of his soulmate and his daughter finding something like a connection, as simple as it might be, and the thought surprises him with the steady, reassuring warmth it fills his chest with.

Corvo lifts up a corner of the blanket and sits on the sofa next to Daud. He carefully covers them all with the blanket again and casts an arm across Emily. She places one of her hands on his palm, tiny and warm against his large, calloused one, and he smiles fondly as he presses up against Daud, resting his head on his shoulder while he blinks sleepily down at his daughter. He can feel Daud responding to it, slightly leaning into where their bodies touch, and while the embers in the hearth slowly turn to ashes, Corvo falls asleep.

* * *

 

“Daud? Daud, wake up!”

A tiny finger pokes his cheek and a thin, whispering voice calls his name.

“Daud!”

Daud grunts and slowly opens his eyes, and while he blinks drowsily he can see a small face with big dark eyes hovering in front of him, bathed in early morning sunlight. Emily grins widely.

“You were making funny faces while you slept,” she informs him.

Daud grumbles a muffled curse under his breath and shifts a little, his legs tingling from the sitting position he had been in all night. Emily is kneeling on his lap, staring at him expectantly.

The warm pressure next to Daud is new.

When Daud discovers Corvo huddled closely against his flank he flinches so hard that he almost rocks Emily off his lap, and she makes an amused little squeal.

When in the Void has Corvo come to join them? Daud frowns, his mind racing, but he can’t remember when Corvo had shown up. Apparently Daud had been so deep asleep that Corvo had managed not to wake him, which is slightly worrying since Daud normally wakes easily upon being disturbed, another leftover from a life of constant danger.

“Why did you not wake _him_?” Daud wants to know, rubbing his eyes with the hand that is not being clamped down by a Lord Protector’s firm embrace.

“Corvo can be a little grumpy in the morning,” Emily says, which makes Daud raise his eyebrows. She’s lucky that she is the Empress of the Isles, because to any other person Daud would gladly show a new definition of _grumpy_.

Daud makes a face and reaches over to gently shake Corvo’s shoulder.

Corvo just grumbles sleepily and clutches Daud’s arm a little tighter. Emily giggles at the sound he makes and Daud shakes him again, more insistent this time.

“Outsider’s eyes Attano, wake up,” Daud growls, but the moment Corvo’s soft hazel eyes flicker open and he catches sight of Daud, a thin, sleepy smile spreads over Corvo’s face, making the corners of his eyes crinkle a little, and Daud distantly realizes he can neither stop the stupid wistful smirk pulling at his lips nor the gentle heat pooling in his stomach at the sight.

“Morning, bodyguard. Could you please take care of this?” Daud asks, poking Emily’s ribs with his index finger which makes her snicker again.

Corvo yawns against his hand and shakes his head before he leans back into Daud, closing his eyes.

He can’t be serious.

“For fu… Dammit, Corvo, it’s _your_ daughter, not mine!”

Corvo just grumbles a little, sounding like he’s falling asleep again, and Daud briefly wonders if it’s _his_ turn now to take care of the morning routine of a little Empress, but before he can start getting seriously annoyed, Emily interrupts him.

“It’s alright, Daud. I can get up alone, I’ll just quickly get to my bedroom before Callista discovers that I’m not there and has a fit,” Emily says understandingly, placing a small hand on his chest. “You two can stay here for a bit longer, but I expect your morning reports in my office by nine. I think it was nine, wasn’t it?”

“It was nine.”

“Good, see you then.”

Emily climbs from Daud’s lap and balances on the tips of her toes to reach up and press a kiss to Corvo’s cheek before she turns and leaves Daud’s office.

Daud glances sidelong at the Lord Protector snuggled against him. When the door slams shut behind Emily, Corvo cracks open an eye and he peeks up at Daud almost guiltily. So the damn bastard has been acting like he’s sleeping to pass the task of taking care of Emily over to his soulmate, it seems. Daud takes a deep breath, wanting to elaborate his opinion on that particular matter, but before he can do so Corvo mouths _thank you_ and closes his eyes again, pressing close, his warm hand slipping over Daud’s and entwining his fingers with his.

Daud sighs resignedly. “Are you fucking kidding me, Corvo?”

Corvo smirks and huddles closer. Daud rolls his eyes and wraps an arm around him, watching the dust dance in the morning sunlight while he listens to Corvo’s slow breathing.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**VI.**

Daud decides it’s about time to take sign language lessons.

Corvo’s and his teamwork in the Tower gardens has only been one of many occasions in which Daud desperately wished to understand Corvo’s language of hands. Sure, they do get along well with grunts and gestures and written words, but Daud longs for a way to spare Corvo the effort and embarrassment that not being able to voice his thoughts sometimes brings.

Daud knows how frustrating Corvo’s position can be at times without being able to snap back a witty reminder when he’s being challenged verbally during council meetings. Daud knows his soulmate often has trouble coping with the infuriating cobweb of guileful intrigues and tripwire etiquette of the city’s court, a thankless, consuming beast that more often than not seems to forget that Corvo Attano, the man they despise for being Serkonan, and mute, and in a higher position than each one of their spoiled sons, has saved them all. Court is a place Corvo and Daud both haven’t been born into, and Daud knows both of them will never feel truly at home in it even if they are an important part of it, but hovering somewhere above the system.

Because of that, of all the times Daud has overheard groups of fucking clerks gossiping about Corvo’s deficiency, whispering to each other during meetings when Corvo gestures his advice to Emily, of all the times Daud has fought back the sudden surge of bloodlust anchored so deeply in his very core, Daud decides to takes sign language lessons.

He can’t really join the lessons directly, though.

Corvo and Emily attend their lessons together three times a week, instructed by a scientist from the Academy of Natural Philosophy that Sokolov had recommended to them. Daud would rather light himself on fire than knock at their door to ask if he can attend too. The last thing he needs is rumors about the Royal Spymaster and the Lord Protector taking sign language lessons together, and the manifold of inconvenient questions such a discovery might cause. Nobody besides Emily knows of Daud’s and Corvo’s soulmate bond, and Daud prefers to keep it that way.

So he attends the lessons in his own way.

Daud makes sure his office looks occupied, his desk littered with papers and the pink glowing darts whose use and maker still remain unknown, and climbs on his balcony. He closes the window behind him with a gentle emerald glow of his Tethering and transverses up on the roof of the Tower, making his way through the shadows cast by chimneys and gables over to where he suspects the teacher’s room to be.

The room in question is one of many small libraries scattered throughout the Tower, something the Kaldwins have always been very fond of, much to Daud’s delight. Besides Daud’s liking for books, the libraries have more advantages, since they have only a few windows placed up under the high ceilings to protect the tomes from sunlight and the rows of wooden shelves offer hiding places as well as vantage points.

Daud enters the library through one of the windows and carefully sneaks along the ridge under the ceiling until he reaches a good spot, making sure he stays out of sight and is able to see Corvo and Emily sitting in front of a blackboard at the far end of the library together with the teacher. The teacher shows them a sign and Corvo and Emily repeat it until the succession of hand movements comes fluid and elegant. Another gesture follows. It goes on for a while, and Daud watches and tries to remember as much as he can, sometimes repeating the gesture for himself hidden in his dark corner under the ceiling.

Daud soon finds out that there are gestures for certain words, but also letters for the words that the speaker doesn’t know the gesture for. The vocabulary exercises are followed by training the alphabet. The teacher makes a sign with his hands for every letter and after each one Corvo and Emily repeat it. He then asks Corvo and Emily to show each other short words and they guess in turns what they think the other meant, Emily by saying it and Corvo by nodding or shaking his head, and Daud feels an odd warm rush when he hears Emily’s giggles drifting up to him or sees Corvo’s fond smile.

And Outsider’s fucking eyes, it’s so much harder than he thought.

At the end, Daud is sure he could reproduce the signs for _you_ , _me_ , _thank you_ , _goodbye_ , _please_ , _breakfast_ and _afternoon_ , but he’s not so sure about _afternoon_. A frustrated groan threatens to erupt from his throat when Corvo signs a gesture Daud has remembered as _whale_ that turns out to be _apple tart_ , and he longingly gazes out the window before pulling himself together and forcing his attention back on the teacher, and on Corvo, because Daud does it for Corvo and him alone, the damn bastard.

He’s thanking the Void when the lesson is over and he can furtively sneak back into his office, his head swimming with all the new information, but the next time, he attends the lesson again.

Daud continues doing so for about two weeks until his back is aching from crouching on top of a shelf and he’s tired of seeing himself gesturing in the mirror. He doesn’t feel like he’s done much of a progress, because learning this without anyone able to tell him whether he’s doing it right or not is pretty much impossible, and before he can stop himself he’s standing in front of Corvo’s office.

Daud has not been to his soulmate’s quarters since that evening when he mustered the courage to ask Corvo about the mark. All their other meetings have taken place in Daud’s quarters, for reasons he could not even name.

Before Daud can talk himself out of it, he lifts a hand and knocks against the door.

Corvo opens it and Daud feels his mouth going dry at the way the Lord Protector’s face lights up when he sees him. Probably to compensate his lacking voice, Corvo’s face is an open book whenever he feels comfortable enough to allow his expression to reflect his thoughts, and now his angular features are expectant and pleasantly surprised.

Daud musters all his self control and lifts his hand, feeling more than just a little ridiculous, and signs _good morning_ , the fingers of his right hand touching his lips briefly, then moving his hand down to his chest, the back of it facing Corvo, and bringing it a little further up again.

Corvo’s reaction makes it worth it.

Daud’s surprise has just the effect on Corvo that Daud has hoped for, and he can’t stop the lopsided smirk that tugs at his lips upon seeing Corvo’s astounded face.

Corvo blinks a few times, brow furrowed in confusion and smiling, before he returns Daud’s gesture. He signals him to enter and Daud signs _thank you_. Corvo closes the door behind him and follows Daud into the room.

Corvo’s quarters are just like Daud remembers them, but they appear much bigger in the dusty sunshine floating in through the windows, and same applies to the controlled chaos. Unlike Daud, Corvo is not a person for tidiness, and the Lord Protector’s littered desk as well as its perimeter look like somebody blew up a library. Here and there, drawings made by Emily are pinned proudly to the wall. The only things that are tidily kept on stands and holders are Corvo’s weapons.

Corvo, not wearing his heavy dark blue coat but only a thin, elegant vest over a white shirt, circles Daud until he’s standing in front of him, his face still surprised, and lifts his hands to sign.

Daud narrows his eyes. He’s sure he’s seen the gestures already, but he doesn’t remember all of them. “I’m not that good yet. Could you write it down?” he asks, also making the gesture for _please_.

Corvo smiles and produces his notepad.

_How did you learn that?_

“Well, if you had had the mind to use your Void powers every now and then during your lessons, you would have seen that you had a visitor,” Daud says.

Corvo looks baffled for a moment, then laughs softly and shakes his head.

_Why did you not attend?_

“Great fucking idea, Attano. The only other person taking the lessons with the Lord Protector besides the Empress herself is the Royal Spymaster. The gossipers will be _so_ delighted,” Daud drawls sarcastically.

Corvo seems to turn that thought over in his head for a while, before he gestures two words. Daud is pretty proud to actually understand them.

_Why worry?_

The question catches Daud off guard. What does Corvo mean? He can’t possibly be interested in any court members knowing about their bond, or even suspecting any kind of special connection between them. Most court members have figured out by now who Daud is, informed by the ones that already knew, and even if they do tolerate the Knife of Dunwall in their circle after Hiram Burrows’ revelation as the actual murderer of the late Empress and Daud’s official appointment by the new Empress herself, casting Daud wary, scared glances during the meetings in which he’s present, they also expect him to have a deep animosity with the Lord Protector. Daud doesn’t mind.

“Well… I thought you’d welcome most court members’ assumption that we are sworn enemies, and not… you know… soulmates,” Daud says, a little lamely. “I suspected you wouldn’t want anyone to know that your soulmate is…”

He’s not sure whether he wants to finish his sentence with _me_ or _a man_. So he doesn’t finish it at all. Corvo already offers enough fodder for gossip all by himself, so adding the rumor of a relationship with the man who killed the Empress he swore to protect to that would be a recipe for disaster.

And again, Corvo surprises Daud.

It’s an infuriating habit of his.

_I am not ashamed of you._

Daud blinks, slowly, and his fists clench painfully at his sides until his fingernails dig into his palms almost hard enough to draw blood as he desperately fights the urge to run to Corvo and…

Oh, how he _wants_ to. But he won’t, and if resisting kills him.

Corvo smiles at his dumbfounded expression and signs _I agree_ _with you._ He adds, by writing, _I understand why you are worried. I also think not making it public would be wise_. _Just know I’m not hiding it because of shame._

Daud nods, not trusting his voice. Corvo’s admission, as casually and naturally as he had just said it, feels like a painful little sting in his chest, cutting a band that has been wrought tightly around his heart, and now he feels blood running back into it, and it _hurts_.

Daud’s hands move and he signs _thank you_.

Corvo smiles, his beautiful eyes glittering almost mockingly.

_Why have you come here? Just to show off a little?_

Daud pulls himself together, switching his stance to something more relaxed. “Well, actually I came to ask you to help me practice. Learning sign language while crouching on a fucking shelf is not really an efficient way to do so.”

Corvo looks him in the eye for a long moment, hazel brown meeting steely grey. His face is not giving away what he’s thinking, but _something_ flickers through the barrier of his stern expression, something soft and thankful. Eventually he nods, beckoning Daud to follow him over to the bedroom section of his quarters so they are no longer standing next to the window front. Large curtains, dark blue with the golden swans of the Kaldwin dynasty are covering the windows there, swaying gently in the breeze.

Daud briefly has to think of the evening Corvo had offered him to share his bed, and he has to willingly take his eyes away from the unmade mess of Corvo’s big, comfortable bed.

Corvo positions himself in front of him again, taking out his notepad.

_What would you like to practice?_

After showing it briefly to Daud and putting it in a pocket, he slowly signs the same words. At least Daud assumes that that’s what he does, since Daud recognizes _what_ and _you_.

“During your last lesson, there were a lot of words used in court. Could you repeat that with me?” Daud asks.

Corvo nods and lifts his hands to start, but before he does so, his expression changes. His eyes narrow and he points to the lower corner of his cheek with his index finger.

Daud, a little confused about Corvo’s frown but willing to learn, repeats the gesture.

Corvo grunts, lifts both hands and waves them dismissively as if wanting to start over, then again points to his cheek with one index finger and at Daud with the other.

Daud is not sure where Corvo is going with that but repeats the gesture, a little more emphasized this time.

Another impatient grunt by Corvo makes him frown too. “Alright, Attano, what am I doing wrong? What word is that even?”

Corvo heaves a sigh and makes to gesture the same thing again, but then apparently decides that it is no use, letting his arms hang limply by his sides. Daud frowns in frustration, unsure about what he has done wrong, when Corvo rolls his eyes and quickly closes the distance between them.

Daud opens his mouth to snarl at Corvo, but before he can do so Corvo has caught Daud’s chin in one hand, holding it firmly in place, lifts the other hand to Daud’s left cheek and rubs the tip of his thumb over the lower corner, right above his jaw.

Daud is way too stunned to fight back.

Corvo squints at the spot he just rubbed at, briefly brings his thumb to his lips to wet it and rubs it over Daud’s cheek again. Daud’s chin is then released from Corvo’s grip and Corvo takes a step back with a satisfied smile on his face.

Daud blinks slowly.

“Did you just…?” he starts, but Corvo already has his notepad in hand.

_There was a crumb of egg yolk. It’s gone now._

Corvo, still smiling, holds his hands up, palms open, signaling him he’s ready to start.

Daud briefly clenches his fists and forces himself to push the memory of Corvo’s strong, warm hands touching his jaw aside, at least for now, knowing that a phantom of the sensation will remain there, hot and burning and _reminding_ him. Thinking about how much it unsettles Daud that Corvo had touched him, even if it was just to remove a crumb from his fucking breakfast, is… not entirely welcome.

It’s not an unpleasant sensation either. Quite the opposite.

“Can we start now?” he asks, mostly to distract himself from chasing the tingles on his skin.

Corvo nods and holds up an index finger.

“First lesson?”

Another nod. Corvo then turns his hand over and lifts his middle finger instead. Daud tilts his head.

“Really?”

A smug grin appears on Corvo’s face before morphing into something apologetic. He waves both hands towards himself, raising his eyebrows, as if ordering Daud to ask him a question.

“Alright… Sign _work_ ,” Daud asks him.

Corvo makes two fists and slightly bumps the right one of top of the left. Daud repeats the gesture and Corvo nods, satisfied.

“Now _conflict_.”

Corvo lifts both hands, index fingers pointing, and crosses them in front of his chest, like the blades of two duelists clashing.

“That’s easy to remember,” Daud comments as he repeats the gesture, and Corvo nods again, making the sign for _good_.

They continue for a while, and sometimes Corvo thinks of a word and writes it down before showing Daud the gesture. Daud musters all of his concentration and focus to try and remember as much as he can. He knows it’s not going to work for all of them, not in this short time, but this is not only about being able to understand Corvo better, but also about showing him his good will, that he is _trying_ to make amends as good as he can.

After they have been practicing some words and the alphabet a bit more, Corvo signals Daud to wait. He makes a longer succession of signs, each one slow and carefully emphasized, as if putting together an entire phrase. Daud watches him, and feels a surge of pride that he actually recognizes some signs, as well as a touch of frustration because some look completely new.

“Something about things… imports from Tyvia, I think? There was a T and a Y… Things transported with a ship, and they are late?”

Corvo holds up two thumbs and makes an approving little huff. Daud feels a smile tugging at his lips, and he doesn’t try to stop it.

Corvo forms another phrase.

“That one’s hard. Something about a conflict between the Watch and… I don’t know,” he admits. Corvo signals him that he has been at least partly correct and writes down the exemplary phrase he has been signing.

_The Watch conducted a raid on a street gang._

“I see. Can you do the sign for _gang_ again?”

Corvo does, two fingers in front of his lips as if mimicking a mustache, and writes _It is the same as for criminal or thief_.

“Another one?”

Corvo does another phrase, this time also pointing at Daud. One of the gestures looks… suspicious. Also, Corvo _smirks_ while gesturing. Daud voices the phrase while Corvo signs, but stops as realization hits him when he interprets that suspicious gesture.

“I am a big, stupid… _What_?! Does that mean what I think it means?”

Corvo just chuckles, raising one eyebrow. Oh good, _that_ again. Daud can’t decide whether he wants to be offended or not, considering that it’s clearly meant jokingly, but the word Corvo just signed is so dirty that if one of his Whalers had used it around him the man would have had to spend the night in the next best sewer.

“Alright, bodyguard, very funny,” Daud snarls, the slight curve of his lips taking the sting from his words. “Do you teach Emily words like that too?”

Corvo huffs indignantly and shakes his head.

“How would you like it if _I_ taught Emily that word?”

Corvo freezes, and Daud feels a triumphant smirk spread over his face. Corvo had not thought of _that_ possibility, Daud realizes with no little amount of satisfaction.

Corvo’s soft, hazel eyes narrow at Daud and he produces his notepad.

 _Don’t you fucking dare_.

“Oh, did I strike a nerve?”

_If you teach her that word I’ll tell everyone how good you are at doing female voices._

Daud’s eyes widen a bit, his mind racing. How could Corvo know that he read stories to Emily…?

She told him. Of course she did, she tells him everything, except for Daud’s and Emily’s secret target practice with the wristbow. At least Daud assumes that, because all of his limbs are still attached to his body.

“I am _not_ good at doing voices,” Daud growls.

_Emily told me you almost did better than me, reading stories._

Daud decides not to comment on that. “Well, looks like we have a draw, then.”

Corvo nods, slowly, his arms crossed in front of his chest. They regard each other for a moment, waiting for the other to speak.

Eventually, Daud repeats the incredibly dirty and offensive sign Corvo had done before.

Corvo grunts, a hand pressed to his mouth, and then doubles over, laughing uncontrollably.

Daud blinks at him, completely baffled. If the sign he just did means what he thinks, Corvo should _not_ be laughing. Unless he did it wrong.

“Alright, Corvo… What did I just sign?”

Corvo, still shaking a little with some stray chuckles, writes on the paper and turns the pad around.

_You just offered me to eat a screwdriver._

Daud bites his tongue. “Well, maybe that was just my intention.”

_Was it?_

“Fuck _no_ , idiot!”

Corvo shakes his head, still grinning, and Daud notices by the way his cheeks hurt that he must have been grinning for quite a while as well.

Corvo’s hands move, and he signs _thank you_. Daud tilts his head.

“What for?”

_For reading to Emily. She told me she liked it a lot, that you were nice. And that you promised her to tell her about your mother._

“I didn’t promise anything,” Daud protests weakly, despite knowing perfectly what a good memory Emily has, and by the Outsider he knows she will address the topic sooner or later.

Corvo signals him to wait, and Daud falls silent. Corvo makes to write again, but then decides to gesture instead. Daud recognizes most of the signs, but some elude him.

“It… means a lot to you?” he guesses.

Corvo nods. There is some kind of shine in his dark eyes that pierces Daud’s very core with its intensity, and he clenches his fists, wants to avert his eyes, but can’t, hypnotized by Corvo’s gentle gaze. Corvo smiles softly and Daud feels a tingle running down his spine, causing him to struggle to hide the shiver that jolts through him. His hands itch and he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with them, so he settles for a slow nod. If Daud is really honest with himself, he not only enjoyed reading the story to Emily, but also feels an entirely unknown kind of pride, a warm, fluttering reassurance that follows the mere thought that he did something his soulmate appreciates this obviously.

“It wasn’t _that_ annoying.”

Again that stupid, knowing smirk from Corvo.

“Let’s keep practicing, shall we? Some of us have work to do later.”

Corvo nods and lifts his hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus notice:  
> Just to let you know, the next chapter is going up on the first of october next week, and after that I'm going to be away on an excursion for two weeks, probably without internet the whole time. :( I'm going to miss you all and I promise I'll keep writing and have the next chapter done as soon as I return!
> 
> Anyway, lemme know what you think about sign language!Daud. Also... I'm not a proper author and I never actually took requests or anything so far, BUT should you feel the wish to read about a certain situation between Corvo and Daud (or Emily...), don't hesitate to tell me in the comments and I see what I can do...


	7. Chapter 7

**VII.**

“Good morning, Master Daud.”

“Good morning, Thomas. Where’s Jenkins?”

“In his laboratory,” Thomas answers smoothly, and after having made his customary little bow, back straight as an arrow, Daud’s second in command transverses up a flight of stairs and Daud follows.

After Daud’s departure upon being defeated by Corvo, the majority of his men had stayed in the Chamber of Commerce, as if deeply inside hoping their Master would return to pick them up a second time. The thirty-five men and women that had been waiting for him when Daud came to check on his old lair, somewhat lost and confused after their leader’s disappearance, had been so relieved to see Daud again that he had felt almost touched by their fierce loyalty – something he didn’t quite feel he deserved.

But Daud _had_ picked them up a second time, in a way. The Whalers, now the Spymaster’s official secret police, had been moved into an old building close to the Tower by order of the Empress. It used to be a bank, Daud had been told, and it had been easy to refurnish the vast, hall-like rooms to their needs. There now is a training room with an obstacle course, a dormitory for all of them to sleep, a library, bureaus, a kitchen, bathrooms and archive rooms, something indispensable to them with their new profession as spies. One of the upper floors had been made into a laboratory.

Daud reappears behind Thomas in front of the laboratory door. Another Whaler is waiting there, and by his posture Daud knows it is Scott. The tall, Morlish man is wearing the dark blue, almost black uniform the Whalers had been given due to their official role in the Empire now, not a big change compared to their old industrial whaler attire. Their new uniform also incorporates a coat and a number of pouches and pockets on belts. It’s strange how much the Whalers seem to have been longing for something familiar during their rapid change of lifestyle, as much as they love their new profession, and when Daud had decided to discard the usual Royal Spymaster coat and had a new one made just for him, a similar, but more practical and less fancy cut, the color a deep red, the Whalers had visibly approved of that.

They are still wearing the masks, though, and Daud doesn’t mind. It’s a habit of theirs that seems to make it easier for them to adapt, and whenever he chooses to take some men of his to a council meeting they have quite an intimidating effect on the other attendants.

“Sir.”

Daud briefly nods to Scott and the three men enter the laboratory.

Jenkins is almost hidden behind a labyrinth of glass tubes, wires, copper pipes and an assortment of plants that he uses to extract all kinds of ingredients from. The room is stacked with tables and shelves carrying flower pots, jars with floating organisms in it, vials filled with liquids in all colors one could think of and large burners fuelled with whale oil, giving off a soft hissing noise and a light blue glow.

While Thomas closes the door behind them, Daud approaches Jenkins, who is wearing a battered, stained laboratory coat instead of the uniform.

“Good morning Jenkins. I heard you finally found out something,” Daud says.

“Master Daud.” Jenkins makes a little bow before gesturing to his desk where some of the mysterious pink darts are placed. “I did indeed find out what the liquid inside these darts does, but I admit the purpose eludes me. It is… very strange, if I may say so.”

Daud hums thoughtfully, regarding the oddly organic-looking darts that still emit a soft, pink glow. A vial next to them is filled with what looks like the same substance.

“And what exactly do they do?” he wants to know.

“It’s hard to explain. I believe the best way would be to demonstrate it. Take a step back, please.”

Curious, Daud, Thomas and Scott retreat a little while Jenkins produces a dropper from his pocket and picks up a little of the pink substance from the vial. He walks over to another desk. On its surface lies what looks like an assortment of different substrates, a pile of soil, a pile of pebbles, a marble slab, a patch of carpet and a wooden board.

“The pink substance I have here was collected from some of the darts. I opened them to extract it, which was not easy and caused quite some trouble. You’ll see why,” Jenkins explains. He turns a little to the side so the others can see what he does.

“Erm… It would be a good idea to have your wristbow ready, Sir.”

Daud raises his eyebrows, but charges his wristbow as Jenkins asks, and hears by the soft clicking noises next to him that Thomas and Scott do the same.

Jenkins carefully places a single drop of the glowing pink substance on the pile of soil and immediately jumps a step back.

At first, nothing happens.

A second later, there is a faint scraping noise as if _something_ is digging its way up through the ground and the soil on the table _moves_.

All of a sudden, a dark green vine densely covered with vicious looking thorns shoots out of the ground, growing and growing until it’s almost as long as an arm and about half as thick. It moves and cringes like the tentacle of a squid trying to catch something above the sea’s surface, as if the plant was feeling for something to pierce with the thorns, making an eerie whipping sound whenever it is writhing its thorny length across the table.

The three men next to Jenkins stare at the vine for a moment, until Daud breaks the silence.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he simply says, in such an annoyed tone that Thomas next to him flinches a little.

“What happens when it touches something?” Scott asks, and his unduly interested tone earns him a dark glare from Daud.

“I’m glad that you ask,” Jenkins comes back enthusiastically and turns to his newest discovery so quickly that he doesn’t see the icy stare Daud is shooting him. “Watch.”

Jenkins carefully pushes an empty vial towards the plant and as soon as it gets in touch with the glass, the vine wraps around it tightly like a snake around its prey, and _squeezes_. There is a crack, and the glass shatters.

Scott makes an approving little whistling noise, and Daud can hear Thomas punch Scott’s arm before Daud can turn to scold the man.

Next, Jenkins produces a dead rat from a container on the table and pushes it towards the vine, and this time the vine doesn’t only grab and squeeze the animal until the bones crack with a wet crunch, but also _pierces_ the pointy tip inside its body, over and over again, until the rat is a mess of mushy flesh and blood.

“Fuck,” Daud repeats. Shaking his head slightly, he carefully approaches the plant. “Wristbow works, I assume?”

“For the smaller ones, yes.” Jenkins nods and Daud shoots a bolt into the vine’s base. The plant cringes and writhes and slowly turns brown, and then it becomes slack and lies crumpled and dead on the table.

Daud takes a deep breath. He does have a burning suspicion what this means and where the bolts come from, but for now he pushes those thoughts aside, opting for getting more information about the vine first before voicing his concerns.

“Does it only grow on soil?” Daud asks.

“No. I tried the pink liquid inside the darts on the surfaces you see here. The vines arising from the liquid only grow on natural organic material, like soil and wood, but not on stone. Strangely, carpet works too, maybe because of wool being an organic material,” Jenkins explains.

“I believe I know now where the cursing and the fighting noises came from a few nights ago,” Scott remarks dryly.

Jenkins rubs the back of his head and stares at his feet. “Well, while trying to extract the liquid from the darts one of them broke and the liquid dribbled on the floor, and… You can imagine. The size of the vine resulting from the entire dose enclosed in a dart is… quite impressive. It takes explosive bolts and fire to kill it.”

Daud nods, brow furrowed. The vine that Jenkins just showed them was arm-long and it had only been a single drop. The dose in a dart must be about twenty times the volume.

“Anything else?” he wants to know.

“Well, obviously the darts were constructed to make these aggressive vines arise wherever the projectile hits suitable substrate. You shoot the dart to where you want the vine to be and it attacks everything within reach. The darts are partly made of wood, it seems to be vital for the substance to keep… _alive_ , I should say. Even though they remind one of the blood briars we experienced in Brigmore, this is nothing magical as far as I can tell. The pink liquid contains spores resulting in the vines as well as a complex mixture of nutrients and growth accelerators, but it eludes me how it can be made this powerful and effective. Maybe there is some kind of magic involved in the progress of making these darts, I can’t really tell.”

“So you can’t reproduce them?” Daud asks.

“The empty dart wouldn’t be much of a problem, but the liquid… no, I can’t.”

Daud hums thoughtfully again. He picks up one of the darts and turns them around in his gloved fingers, running his thumb over the tuft of thistle seed fletching.

“Do I have to say the obvious?” he asks more to himself than to his men. “This reeks of Delilah.”

“Delilah is dead, isn’t she?” Thomas pipes up.

“She is,” Daud confirms. A brief image blinks up in his mind, his bloody sword sticking out from Delilah’s back, her black fingernails scratching his arms while the angry fire in her eyes flickered and died down, the red gash across her throat, and moments later his blade found Emily’s portrait, slicing it in half and smearing it with its creator’s blood. Daud hadn’t killed anyone after Jessamine, not even Billie, not a drop of blood staining his blade… but Delilah was the only exception. He had had the strong feeling, burning in the back of his mind, that if he simply banished Delilah in another painting, if he left Delilah alive she would somehow find a way to come back, and her revenge would be disastrous.

So Daud had killed her, and no one else since.

Delilah’s coven of witches, though… They are another matter.

“I assumed the Brigmore Witches would disperse after their Mistress died,” Daud admits. “I would not expect them to be active after that, with their leader gone.”

“It seems only logical, Sir,” Thomas confirms. “I think they are no longer able to use magic. When you left us for a while, before coming back, we lost our magical powers until the Arcane Bond restored them as soon as we reentered your service. The same should apply for Delilah’s followers.”

Daud nods and lifts the dart a little. “Assuming the witches are still around, and assuming they don’t have magical powers any more besides their usual fighting skills… Where do _these_ come from, then? Who made them, and what is their purpose? An assault? Or simply protecting a territory?”

Jenkins, Thomas and Scott exchange looks and shrug.

“I want it found out. Consider it a mission with highest priority. Thomas, pick a number of experienced Whalers and organize patrols around the sewer you found the darts in, and in places with similar circumstances. I will join in some patrols myself and see if we can find any hints as to where the darts come from.”

“What about the black market, Sir? Shall we show them around and ask if they have been seen for sale somewhere?”

“No, not yet. I don’t want whoever made these to know that we are looking for them.”

Thomas nods, bows with a fist pressed to his chest in salute and vanishes.

“What about me, Sir?” Scott asks.

“You continue your usual activities. Focus on Lord Egerton and the Boyle family. There is a parliamentary session tomorrow and I want to know as much as possible about each and every one of their dirty secrets,” Daud answers and places the dart back on Jenkins’ desk.

“And Lord Pyne? You mentioned he’s a particular troublemaker at the moment,” Scott, who is currently leading the research on nobles and businessmen that Daud suspects to have been in league with the Lord Regent back then, says.

Daud turns to leave the laboratory.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll pay him a visit myself tonight.”

* * *

Daud’s back had started hurting quite a while ago, and even shifting in his not very comfortable chair doesn’t help. He can imagine the two Whalers standing behind him, Thomas and Misha, having an even more exhausting time standing upright with their hands neatly folded behind their backs, but at the moment he would love to switch places with them.

The parliamentary sessions are always a tedious, lengthy nuisance in Daud’s otherwise quite entertaining schedule. Listening to hordes of rich bastards bickering about every tiny detail of every damned piece of paper that is brought forth is making him itch for his blade to silence them. After the stemming of the plague’s spread with the help of the Watch and Sokolov’s and Piero’s teamwork in developing a cure, Dunwall seems to steer away from the abyss into a more or less bright future, but Emily Kaldwin’s reign is as new as it is burdened, and way too many nobles and politicians seek to turn the tables to their advantage like vultures fighting over the corpses on a battlefield.

It’s annoying and boring and as much as Daud loves listening to grown men with way too much money and way too large egos being put in their place by a little girl, he’d very much like to be elsewhere.

It doesn’t help that Corvo is standing not very far away from him, behind Emily’s seat, his face such a stoic mask he might as well be a masterful oil painting. Daud tries very hard not to glance over at him, just to be sure, but he does catch the slightest hint of a head movement from Corvo every now and then and by the Void, he hopes the man never makes eye contact, because Daud is not sure he could manage to hide the damned yearning frown that always seems to plant itself into his face whenever Corvo looks at him.

Daud vaguely registers the head of some noble family he couldn’t possibly care less about argue with Tilda Roseburrow, the last living relative of Esmond Roseburrow, the inventor of the first whale oil powered machines. Daud actually has quite an amount of respect for the Roseburrows, not least because of their open aversion towards the usage of whale oil for military purposes, something Hiram Burrows had been most fond of.

Still, listening to Tilda Roseburrow putting some paranoid fool into his place is not enough to rouse Daud’s attention, and so he continues to draw little rune patterns on the paper that is lying before him.

Until Emily chimes in, and asks Corvo for his advice.

Not moving a muscle, Daud barely lifts his gaze enough to witness Corvo step a bit forward and gesture to Emily what he thinks about the whole matter. Daud had been practicing sign language frequently over the past weeks and is satisfied to understand most of what Corvo is saying, proud of the results of his efforts.

_I would not advise to install any more lethal security elements, even in the quarantine zones. It only intimidates and endangers the inhabitants_ , he says, or at least something of that nature.

Corvo is right and Emily agrees, of course she does, and she translates for the other parliament members what Corvo had just said to her. Daud glances furtively around the parliament, gauging the reactions.

Most of the members nod and mutter words of agreement, including Tilda Roseburrow and Piero Joplin, but some of them don’t. Daud glimpses heads being put together, whispers behind discreetly raised hands, some even roll their eyes and Daud could swear he can see Lord Pyne exchange something like a cruel joke with his useless lickspittle, because their laughter unpleasant and poorly disguised while Corvo signs.

Daud narrows his eyes at Lord Pyne and becomes very still while the noble stands up and addresses Emily directly.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, I simply _must_ ask you to reconsider your opinion on the security measures. The danger resulting from flocks of disoriented homeless commoners threatening the upper class districts is still very much present, and a few dozen arc pylons and walls of light should be enough to hold that problem at bay,” Lord Pyne drawls, talking to her as if she was five years old. Emily frowns.

“These _homeless commoners_ are my subjects, not a threat, and I will do nothing that endangers them. I will help them find new homes,” she says firmly and Daud can see Corvo fight a proud smile, only the slightest lift of the corners of his mouth giving it away.

“There are still large groups of reckless scavengers around, breaking into our estates and stealing all we have left after the chaos. Your Highness, we cannot help with any of the matters regarding the rebuild of Dunwall if the nobility itself is being bled dry!”

“Oh, I’d really like to see _you_ bled dry, asshole…” Daud mumbles so quietly that only his Whalers can hear it, and Misha tilts the point of her mask to her feet to stifle the soft grunt as she tries not to laugh.

“Lord Pyne has a point, your Highness,” another noble whose name Daud never bothered to learn chimes in. “There still are security breaches and the rebuilding of empty homes is going to take a while, and during that time the groups of assailants are best kept at bay by using a higher number of arc pylons.”

“He’s right! It will also remind the citizens that law has returned to Dunwall!”

An angry choir of voices rises up, arguing with the ones that are against the usage of lethal security measures.

Daud glimpses Corvo signing to Emily again and she nods a few times while he does so. She stands up and stares each person down until they fall silent. Lord Pyne stops haggling too, but returns her stare with a smug, patronizing eye roll.

“Lord Attano just informed me that the installation of further arc pylons in the Estate District is going to be way more expensive than simply rebuilding empty houses to offer homes to the homeless. That money could be used better,” Emily says politely.

Lord Pyne’s smug grin is replaced by an annoyed frown. “Oh, is that so? And since when exactly is _Lord_ Attano…” Daud clenches his fist when he hears the sarcastic tone, “… an expert for assessing the cost of such things?”

“Lord Attano is responsible for all kind of security matters, he knows these things,” Emily comes back at Lord Pyne, already sounding a little indignant.

“And how can you be sure that’s what he meant when he was… whatever that ridiculous hand-waving business is, your Highness? Did he use his fingers to enumerate the budget plans for the security problem that he is apparently going to fix alone? In that case Lord Attano is going to need more than ten fingers, I assure you. If he can even count, which I doubt.”

The pencil Daud is clenching in his hand almost snaps, and he bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood. Desperately fighting to keep his breathing even, he risks a glimpse at Corvo.

Corvo stands perfectly still, his stern dark gaze straight ahead, but the flicker of pain and embarrassment hasn’t eluded Daud, as brief as it might have been. Corvo is long used to being the target of verbal assaults in court, Daud knows, mostly because of his origin and the Kaldwins’ favor, but the loss of his voice is just another thing to add to that list. Daud can see in the tense, agitated posture of the man how much Corvo longs to be able to snap back a retort, and how much it hurts him that he can’t.

Daud just hopes Emily is not going to rise to the obvious provocation.

“Lord Pyne, remember who you are talking to,” Emily barks as sharply as a little girl can. “Do I have to remind you of who saved the Empire? There is a reason Lord Attano got reappointed as Royal Protector and not your son.”

Lord Pyne bristles and turns red with anger. “I assure you, your Highness, we would not have to discuss unnecessary safety breaches if a _Pyne_ had been appointed as Royal Protector instead of a mute, Serkonan savage!”

Alright, that’s it.

Daud remains perfectly still while the court around him blabbers and blusters and assistants attempt at calming everyone down. Corvo hasn’t moved, Daud sees, but his shoulders have slumped a fraction and his gaze is turned towards the ground, and Daud can _feel_ him suffer.

Oh, how much Daud wants to draw his blade and summon the Void’s powers and paint the flawless white walls red, but he doesn’t. Daud knows that should he interfere now, and be it only to add to the discussion in Corvo’s favor, it might possibly give away that he stepped into the breach for Corvo and he really wants to avoid that. Daud wants to tear Lord Pyne apart for doing this to his soulmate, and he _will_ punish him. But not now.

And so he waits.

The discussion goes on a little without reaching a result and Lord Pyne rallies some especially obnoxious inhabitants of the Estate District around him that together threaten to drown out the voices that are against the usage of lethal safety measures. At last, Daud decides that the moment is right. He discreetly chooses one of papers in front of him and places it on top of the pile, making sure the document is just barely visible under his hands, the red and black sigil on it peeking out from one carefully arranged corner. Daud starts speaking, and the room falls silent immediately upon hearing his deep, husky voice, as if hearing the Knife of Dunwall talk makes the thought of him sitting among them even more terrifying.

“Lord Pyne, correct me if I’m wrong, but for a moment it seemed to me that you were planning on continuing the radical safety measures and curfew that the Lord Regent had begun,” Daud says, and notices with satisfaction how a number of parliament members tense up at the mention of Hiram Burrows. Daud knows exactly who of them were in league with the usurper. He also knows how anxious they are for anyone to hang a lantern on that.

“But… Spymaster, what on earth makes you assume that I was in league with the traitor Hiram Burrows?” Lord Pyne bristles, not quite managing to hide his nervousness.

“Oh, just a thought considering that you and the former Spymaster were quite close. Allies, I dare say,” Daud comes back nonchalantly and has to suppress a smirk at how the court members around Pyne seem to shrink away from him.

Lord Pyne turns red. “I… I don’t know what you are talking about. I always openly distanced myself from Burrows, and her Highness knows that…”

“Have you? Lord Pyne, I’m sure you know exactly what I mean. How could you forget about the profitable contract you had with Spymaster Hiram Burrows during your close collaboration?” Daud says casually.

“How… That’s empty allegations! What makes you believe that?”

“As you might have noticed I happen to be the new Royal Spymaster and thus inherited the entire archive of correspondence from my predecessor. For some reason you have so far failed to ask me for the contracts you had with Burrows. Maybe you could make a list, I’ll gladly hand them back to you.”

Lord Pyne opens his mouth to protest angrily, keeping up his façade of hurt indignation, but then he sees the finger Daud keeps running casually, almost playfully, over the document in front of him, over the red and black sigil. Daud suppresses the smirk that tugs at his lips when he sees the realization dawning in Pyne’s eyes as the noble recognizes the document as his contract with Burrows. Lord Pyne quickly shuts his mouth again and _begs_ Daud with his gaze to not bring the contract up again, or show it around openly.

Seeing Lord Pyne squirm and struggle for a comeback while a murmur of appalled voices erupts from the background is just _delicious_.

Daud can see how much Lord Pyne longs to deny everything, and also longs to ask Daud how in the Void he got hands on the carefully hidden connection between him and Burrows, but then Pyne would give himself away, admitting that such a connection exists in the first place.

Truth is Daud had found the defamatory documents by visiting Lord Pyne’s office last night, breaking in unseen as a ghost and meticulously combing through the man’s archives and collecting a nice assortment of papers that every politician with just a hint of a survival instinct would burn immediately. Lord Pyne doesn’t have that instinct, it seems.

Daud firmly holds Lord Pyne’s angry stare, feels the man seethe with shame while his supporters visibly shrink away from him.

Daud enjoys every single moment of it.

“Your Highness, I wish to countermand my previous statement!” one of Lord Pyne’s earlier supporters says to Emily. “I very much agree with Lord Attano’s proposal to rebuild the flooded houses to offer shelter for the homeless.”

Calls of similar intent are coming from all sides now, all of Pyne’s supporters eager to distance themselves as much as possibly from him, all of them not willing to be in league with a man connected to the former Lord Regent. Daud knows perfectly well that many of them were quite fervent supporters of Hiram Burrows when the man was at the peak of his power, but now that the tables have turned they are all very much motivated to forget that such a connection ever existed.

Lord Pyne’s proposal is quickly off the cards and Corvo’s solution is accepted.

“What about the cost of rebuilding the damaged houses?” one last pesky skinflint wants to know.

“Enhance the fucking budget, then,” Daud drawls annoyed, barely looking up from his papers. “I’m sure the inhabitants of the Estate District would love to support that project by allocating the funds that were supposed to go into those arc pylons, now that we agreed we won’t need them?”

With those words, Daud stares Lord Pyne down again, and he can feel how much the man wants to protest, but both know he can’t without weakening his position even further.

Lord Pyne nods, defeated, and Empress Emily declares the case closed, again thanking Corvo.

Daud smiles inwardly.

* * *

After the parliamentary session, Daud lingers a little behind, acting as if he is sorting through his papers. He carefully keeps the defamatory documents he had stolen from Pyne for later use, just in case. He waits until the nobles have left the large circular hall, checking with his Void Gaze where Corvo is and spots him a little further ahead, signing goodbye to Emily as she is escorted off to her afternoon lessons.

“That was very well done, Master,” Misha remarks. “Lord Pyne has been a pain in the ass for the last time, I hope.”

Daud grins when he hears Thomas give her a little punch at her comment. He turns and offers them a brief smile.

“I hope so too. That other bastard, though, the one that resisted almost until the end… What was his name again?”

“Lord Alton Duncombe, Sir,” Thomas offers. “Would you like me to organize a search of his archive next, to see if we can find anything useful to use against him?”

“Do me the favor.”

“With pleasure, Sir.”

“Thanks, Thomas. Misha.”

Daud nods to them and waves his hand, and the Whalers understand they are dismissed, both vanishing in a flurry of shadows.

Daud gathers his documents and leaves to find Corvo.

He transverse up on a ledge running under the ceiling of the parliament’s empty corridor and spots the Lord Protector a little further ahead, walking back to his quarters. Daud reaches out with the green glow of his Tethering and gently pulls at the seam of his coat, which makes Corvo turn around. Corvo seems to know exactly where that otherworldly touch has come from, because he immediately scans the area under the ceiling with his eyes. When he spots Daud, he furrows his brow and averts his gaze. That’s not the reaction Daud had expected, and he frowns in confusion.

Is anything wrong…?

Corvo seems to make up his mind and discreetly points to a small room next to the corridor and slips inside unseen, with Daud following close behind.

Daud closes the door behind him and briefly checks the murky, narrow room with his Void Gaze. Upon finding it empty he turns to Corvo, who is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed firmly in front of his chest, his gaze fixed stubbornly on his boots.

“Corvo…?”

Daud steps a little closer and tries to look Corvo in the eye, but the man simply turns his head a little further away.

Daud frowns. He had expected Corvo to congratulate him for making Lord Pyne look like the foolish bastard that he is, or to thank him for assisting Emily in convincing the opposition to carry her plans through. Daud had definitely not expected to find Corvo sulking and avoiding him.

“What’s wrong?”

Corvo grunts and shakes his head. He uncrosses his arms, apparently gathering his thoughts, before he slowly gestures. While he does so he avoids Daud’s gaze.

_I didn’t want you to see me like this. But you did._

Daud raises his eyebrows, his mind racing. Why in the Void is Corvo so upset about Daud seeing him in court…?

When realization hits him Daud has to stop himself from slapping his own forehead. _Of course_ … Corvo had been humiliated by Lord Pyne and some other noble bastards, and Daud helping Corvo, even if it was just passively, not obviously, has wounded his pride even further. Daud can imagine that Corvo feels weak now, helpless, since before losing his voice he was very much able to defend himself against verbal assaults, but now…

Daud had just wanted to help. He had wanted to avenge Corvo, to put a damper on Lord Pyne’s big mouth so that he’ll think twice next time before opposing anyone like that. Daud had definitely not wanted to hurt Corvo’s pride, but apparently that is just what had happened.

“Corvo, I just wanted to help,” Daud says, carefully approaching the man. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I expected from you. Guess it was wrong to expect a medal and high praise. You are my soulmate, and I… I just couldn’t let Pyne play up like that. I didn’t mean to patronize you. I’m an idiot, Corvo.”

Corvo lets out his breath and finally looks up. His frown softens a little, and the corners of his mouth move up ever so slightly. He pulls out his notepad and writes.

_It’s fine. It’s just that I feel helpless and weak when I’m dependent on anyone’s help._

Reading his words causes a stabbing pain in Daud’s chest, and he struggles for words, anything to say to reassure Corvo that he is many things, but not weak; that Daud feels obliged to help his soulmate because he _wants_ to, more than anything, not because he thinks Corvo deficient. Corvo’s trust in the world is a battered, scarred thing and ever since the numerous betrayals he prefers to take care of all of his problems alone, Daud knows. He sighs deeply and approaches Corvo a little more. Daud lifts his hands, doesn’t know what to do with them and lets them sink down again.

“Corvo… I _know_ that you can defend yourself. And guess what, Lord Pyne knows that too. Everybody knows how smart you are, smarter than all of those rich bastards together. That asshole is scared of you, and now he thinks he has an advantage if he abuses your situation, but in truth, he’s a fucking coward. All of them are. They would never dare to challenge you like that openly.”

Corvo looks up briefly and averts his eyes again. His hands move.

_But I can’t fight back._

“Ignore them, Corvo. They will _always_ feel superior to you, that’s a sad fact. But they will also always fear you and secretly admire you for what you’ve accomplished, and if they need to drown their jealousy in those pathetic little jibes, for Outsider’s sake let them. You are better than that. And they _know_ it.”

Daud is now standing right in front of Corvo, and just the notepad Corvo is still holding in one hand is left between them.

“Please, Corvo, let me be just one exception. When I’m helping you I don’t mean harm, I mean… You’re my soulmate. I want to be there for you.”

Corvo’s sad whiskey brown eyes meet Daud’s, causing him to feel slightly dizzy all of a sudden.

“Also, if you like, I’ll tear each and every court member to pieces like I did with Pyne. It’d be my pleasure. Just tell me who,” Daud offers, somewhat to distract himself from getting lost in that gaze, but he also _means_ it genuinely. He _wants_ to make Corvo feel better, more than anything.

A slow, hesitant smile creeps over Corvo’s features, and Daud’s heart makes a little lurch. Corvo writes on the notepad.

_I admit you were pretty impressive. His face was priceless._

Daud grins, despite himself. “I enjoy that part of my job a lot.”

_Tearing nobles apart?_

“I have quite a bit of experience with that,” Daud says and immediately bites his lip, unsure if he can make a joke like that in front of Corvo or if it offends him. Daud breathes out slowly when Corvo chuckles. So dark humor is no problem for him. Good. Also, Daud managed to reassure Corvo, which makes him oddly proud in a not entirely uncomfortable way.

Corvo’s hands move, and he signs _thank you_.

“You don’t have to thank me. It was mostly for my own entertainment.”

Corvo puts his notepad in a pocket and repeats the gesture, more pronounced this time.

_Thank you_ , a brief touch of his lips and a movement of his hand towards Daud, as if blowing him a kiss.

Daud’s mouth goes dry. He vaguely realizes that there is nothing standing between them anymore, no notebook like a small, papery barrier, and Daud forgets to breathe when Corvo slowly, carefully closes the short distance between them and wraps him in his arms.

Daud’s mind has trouble to catch up on what’s happening but luckily, his body is faster, and Daud returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around Corvo’s waist, his head resting on Corvo’s shoulder. He closes his eyes.

They remain like that for a long moment, and Daud can feel Corvo’s warmth seep through him, inhaling the scent of his hair while his head is pressed against Corvo’s. Corvo tightens the embrace a fraction and Daud registers way too late that his hands are roaming across the man’s broad back, slowly, feeling the bunched muscles even through the heavy coat. When Corvo’s left hand creeps up to rake gentle fingers through his hair Daud has to bite his tongue to stifle the sharp intake of breath, a powerful shiver racing down his spine.

Their embrace lasts too long, too close, and Daud feels himself _burn_. He does not deserve it, does not deserve a reward like this for helping Corvo, since helping his soulmate is the least Daud can do to make up for a tiny, minuscule fraction of the guilt he has heaped upon his shoulders. Daud _hates_ himself for enjoying this so much, for daring to return Corvo’s touch, for having the atrocity to accept an offer like that from the person he destroyed…

But he does, and Daud allows that any painful thoughts melt away for a moment as he is enveloped by Corvo’s massive, gentle heat.

Finally Corvo pushes back a little, the dark eyes soft and a bit sheepish. Daud immediately snatches his hands away, wary to do anything that Corvo hasn’t initiated himself. He clears his throat.

“Well, I guess I still have work to do. See what Scott found out about Lord Egerton,” he says. Corvo nods and smiles, and his hands move.

_Thanks again._

“You’re welcome,” Daud says, as casually as possible to hide that he’s buzzing on the inside.

_See you this evening?_

Daud hesitates, but then he inclines his head in agreement. “Only if you bring whiskey.”

_It’s your turn._

“Oh is it, bodyguard? Like the last few times?”

Corvo chuckles and nods again.

“Greedy bastard,” Daud snarls, but he can’t stop the smile as he follows Corvo out of the room.

* * *

They watch the Lord Protector and the Royal Spymaster talk, carefully blended into the greens and browns of the branches of an old tree just outside the window. When the two men suddenly find themselves in each other’s arms, one of them raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“That’s… interesting.”

“Could be useful.”

“Oh yes, my dear. Oh yes.”

They retreat while they cast careful glances over the Tower, the balconies, and over the little Empress who is playing hide and seek with her servant in the gardens, laughing as she jumps behind a bush.

They leave no trace behind, besides a small, pink thistle blossom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I announced last time, I'll be on excursion for two weeks. Thanks for all the good wishes!
> 
> I will most probably have no internet the entire time, so my replies to comments will be terribly late, but they will follow ;). Of course PLEASE don't hesitate to leave your comments, it'll be the most wonderful thing to look forward to once I return home <3.
> 
> I promise I'll keep working on this fic while I'm gone, and have the next chapter ready as soon as I come back, and the following chapters almost done as well :). Middle of october. See you then! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And it was great. <3
> 
> Thank you so much for the good wishes and the lovely comments waiting for me. I was busy whenever I had time and the next chaper is going to be up a little earlier, I promise. For now, enjoy reading!

**VIII.**

Daud growls in frustration and turns away from his desk to pace in front of the windows, muttering curses. He vaguely registers that the three Whalers standing in his office tense visibly at his outburst. They are all very young, promising, but mere recruits, and it’s a damn shame that they, of all his men, had to stumble across another hint regarding the pink darts.

“So… You found one of those aggressive vines in a sewer, with a broken dart close by?” Daud repeats, trying to calm down a bit to not agitate them any further.

The oldest of them, Pickford, nods carefully when the other two nudge him to speak. “Yes, Master Daud. A sewer in the Estate District, close to the base of the Kaldwin Bridge.”

Daud huffs impatiently. “And? Anything else? Traces, footprints, any kind of clue?”

“We… well, we weren’t quite sure what to look for,” Pickford admits and Daud growls again and turns away. Experienced men of his like Thomas or Coleman would have known exactly how to analyze important details, what to register and what to ignore, but these three, a side patrol from one of Anthony’s groups, are quite new in Daud’s ranks, and _of course_ they had the luck to find a clue on the mysterious darts, and had no idea how to deal with it.

“I’m sure we can find the place again and show it to you, Sir,” Pickford suggests and the other two nod eagerly.

“With all the heavy rainfalls of the past days any kind of trace will be lost to the water by now, and we have a million other locations to search. I need to decide which places to visit and which to ignore and how they looked like, for fuck’s sake, to plan any further investigations, and we don’t have enough men to double-check every corner of this damned city,” Daud cuts them off sharply. “Think. Anything else?”

One of the other Whalers pipes up. “Sir. There was a corpse next to the vine, but it was heavily damaged, barely recognizable as human. The dart lay next to the vine, broken open, so it did look like somebody defended themselves against an assailant with the dart by shooting it, allowing the pink substance to spill out and letting the resulting vine attack the aggressor. But I don’t think that is what happened,” he says.

Daud regards the young man for a moment, arms crossed in front of his chest. “You are Rickard, aren’t you?”

Rickard bows a little. “Yes, Sir.”

“What do you think happened?”

Rickard’s mask dips. “Sir, I think it was a deterrence. Even though the clothing of the corpse was rotten and discolored, it was easily recognizable as a member of the Hatters gang, and they do not operate in Estate District, or have any reason to go there. Also, the dart was a bit of a distance further away from the corpse, as if somebody tried to hide it, but the flow of water flushed it out from its hiding place.”

Rickard pauses briefly and Daud waves his hand, encouraging him to continue.

“Sir, I believe the victim, whether it had been dead already or not, had been brought to that place in the sewer, and the vine from the dart was used to mangle the corpse to scare away any nosy scavengers from that place. If an unknowing person discovered the vine they would believe those plants grow there naturally, giving the impression that it is too dangerous to venture in these tunnels. The vine was placed there as a sentry.”

“That’s why the empty dart was hidden!” Pickford chimes in.

Daud hums thoughtfully. It is a very far-fetched assumption, but he has to admit Rickard’s memory is good. Dunwall is large and entangled and so far his Whalers haven’t found the creators of the darts, or any useful traces that hint activity of former Brigmore Witches, so any kind of clue, and be it only vague, is welcome.

“How did the place look? A straight tunnel, or was there a side entrance of some kind?”

“The vine was placed on a crossing, where a large tunnel leads further into the underground,” Rickard says.

Daud nods slowly. Eventually, he points to a corner next to him with two fingers of his left hand, his mark glowing gold and sea-green, and his second in command appears in a swirl of red shadows.

“Master Daud.”

“Thomas. It appears that Pickford, Rickard and…” Daud shoots the third of the young Whalers a look.

“Dodge, Sir,” Dodge says, making a little bow.

“… and Dodge have found a lead on the vine-creating darts. Rickard, repeat your observations to Thomas.”

Rickard does as he is asked. When he is done, Thomas looks thoughtful, as far as Daud can interpret his stance.

“Well, Sir, to be fair, it could be a dead end, like all the other places we investigated.”

“I thought so too, but it’s the best we’ve got so far. Have Rickard show you the place, and leave two experienced sentries there. I’ll join the investigations myself.”

“As you wish. When will we begin our search?” Thomas asks. Daud gazes out the window with a disapproving frown, looking at the gray shrouds of rain wafting by, pelting noisily against the glass.

“As soon as this crappy weather stops. As long as it rains like this crawling around in the sewers useless. The masses of rainwater in the tunnels will not only slow our advance but also probably give us away with the noise.” Daud turns to the three recruits. “Remember to take a close look at the place you were sent to next time, it might be the only chance you get to examine it undisturbed. Follow Rickard’s example. You did well,” Daud continues, offering Rickard a little nod.

Rickard visibly preens and the three bow, left fists pressed to their chests when Daud signals their dismissal, and then they disappear through the window into the rain.

Thomas joins Daud who is standing next to the desk, brooding over a map of Dunwall.

“Sir, we’ve been watched by a figure as of lately. Crouching on the rooftop of a mansion close to the Tower. When I tried to get closer it disappeared.”

Daud gazes at him from the corner of his eye. That sounds awfully familiar. “By using a transversal?”

“It didn’t look like it, Sir. But whoever it was is clearly good at hiding if need be.”

Daud snarls. “So assuming the Witches are still around, and they are no longer able to use magic…”

“I didn’t get close enough to be able to judge if it was indeed a former Brigmore Witch watching the Tower.”

Daud hums and returns his stare to the map of Dunwall. The base of the Kaldwin Bridge where his three recruits have found one of those damned vines is close to the Tower. Too close for his liking.

Daud notices that Thomas is still looking at him.

“Anything else, Thomas?”

“Sir, if I may remind you of the grand ball night taking place next week.”

“So, what about it?”

“You will be expected to attend.”

Daud growls like an angered wolfhound and bares his teeth. “Seriously?”

“Sir, I’m afraid the Royal Spymaster is an important member of the court and therefore…”

“I know!” Daud interrupts him. “This couldn’t possibly be more untimely, now that we finally have a clue concerning those damned darts.”

“I agree, Sir.” Thomas, usually all stoic professionalism, cocks his head, which seems strangely fidgety for his standards. “Sir… I’m afraid there will be dancing.”

Daud lays his head back and groans. “Thanks for reminding me, Thomas. Great, an entire horde of rich assholes flocked together in one room stuffed with an unlimited supply of expensive alcohol, and they expect _me_ to mingle peacefully with them. It will be a _delight_.”

“Sir?”

“What?”

“You do know how to dance, don’t you?”

Daud rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, turning back to the map on his desk.

“I was born on Serkonos, I know every dance the Gristol upper class considers appropriate, and all the inappropriate ones too. Not that I intend to actually participate in that,” Daud snarls, really not wanting to be reminded of those particular annoying duties as court member. From the corner of his eye he can see that his second in command visibly relaxes, looking relieved.

“What is it, Thomas?”

“To be fair, I assumed being fenced together with the noble upper class and especially the Lord Protector would upset you much more, Sir. I’m glad that it doesn’t,” Thomas elaborates.

Daud frowns, mind racing. Then he remembers that his Whalers still seem to assume that a deep animosity exists between Corvo and him, and thus that the prospect of a ball night with Corvo must be something very unnerving for him. Daud briefly feels a surge of worry that he had just given himself away by not reacting completely pissed at Thomas’ news. His worry is unnecessary, but right after that a wave of those infuriating flutters follows as he unwillingly imagines seeing Corvo dance, graceful and elegant, probably with one of those obnoxious noble women that always seem to flock around men with stunning dark eyes like his, and his reputation, and his prestigious position.

Daud quickly fights down the surge of nervous anger and hopes it hasn’t shown on his face. Sooner or later his men would learn about his bond with Corvo, and Outsider’s eyes, he’s not sure why he even bothers to hide it.

Probably because Daud is not sure where his relationship with Corvo is going, but he does have _wishes_ , desperate, _aching_ longings burning in his very core, and it eats at him that they exist, and that he doesn’t know whether Corvo will ever share them, so he carefully pushes those wishes back to the dark corners of his mind.

Furthermore, the topic of the damned ball night couldn’t be more tedious for him anyway. Daud knows that the Kaldwins never were the kind to hold ostentatious parties whose purpose was mostly to show the entire city how rich they were, unlike the Boyles. Emperor Euhorn and his daughter Jessamine did bow to the unofficial tradition among Gristol nobility to hold parties and ball nights every now and then, but only to settle political connections and keep in touch with allies and partners, not to act like pretentious snobs.

Still, Daud couldn’t care less, but he knows he’s going to have to attend.

“Arrange the patrols and sentries in the sewer as we discussed. And hope for the weather to change soon so that we can go and have a look at that damned plant,” Daud says, interrupting his own thoughts before they get him seriously annoyed.

Thomas bows and opens the window, and a soft green glow signals his departure.

Daud continues his desk work for a while, sorting through his carefully arranged files on nobles, politicians and the heads of local companies and larger stores. He has made some space on a nearby wall to pin notes, contracts and newspaper articles, resembling his office in the Flooded District, except now the wall is not filled with assassination targets. It’s a habit of his that Daud found to be the most efficient way to organize his thoughts, and he continues to do so as Spymaster. Daud tries to break with as many habits that link him to his former life as assassin as possible, but, if he is very honest with himself, his position as Spymaster is so similar to what he did before in many aspects that he can’t avoid keeping some mannerisms up. It’s probably the reason why he got appointed in the first place, and why he is actually very good at his new job.

A knock on the door causes him to look up, and a second later Corvo marches into his office.

Daud’s heart makes a jump and he puts the paper he’d been holding back on the desk. He offers the man a lopsided smile, trying to act as casual as possible while he turns to face Corvo fully.

When Daud sees Corvo’s dark expression he knows immediately something is wrong.

Corvo just stomps over to Daud’s bed and lets himself flop heavily on the mattress, face first.

“Corvo…?”

Besides a grunt muffled by the sheets, Corvo fails to answer.

Daud sighs and walks over to him. The bed dips slightly as he sits next to Corvo’s form, the man’s arms sprawled out ungracefully.

“Let me guess…” Daud says slowly. “Trouble in court?”

The mess of long, dark brown hair bobs up and down a little.

“If it’s Lord Pyne again I’ll go and cut his throat right now. You can watch if you like.”

Corvo shakes his head.

“Did anyone insult you?”

Another head-shaking. Daud guesses further. “Anyone disrespectful towards Emily?”

This time, Corvo nods, and Daud hums understandingly. Over time, Daud has gotten quite familiar with the number of things that manage to upset Corvo, and without really noticing, Daud has gotten very good at guessing what exactly is troubling his soulmate.

“Notepad?”

Corvo shakes his head and grunts as he pushes himself up on an elbow and turns a little until he is lying on his side, facing Daud. He then sits up next to the man on the edge of the bed and lets out a breath. His hands move, somewhat tired and clumsy, and he signs _Not this time. Thank you._

During their increasingly more regular meetings, Corvo had sometimes stomped into Daud’s office with a frown creasing his brow even deeper than usual and a tirade of written curses following in which he complained about some uptight noble or arrogant bureaucrat causing problems in court. On those occasions, Daud usually chimes in and offers him increasingly creative names for the person in question or simply talks about something else to take Corvo’s mind off things, until Corvo’s frown has vanished.

Sometimes, Corvo just comes in and sits, eyes dark as the night sky, and Daud knows he prefers silence, then.

Right now it seems to be a situation of the latter kind.

Daud has learned that it’s not only Corvo’s deficiency that bothers him, it’s also the weight of an entire empire resting on his already burdened shoulders. He’s Emily’s most trusted and important consultant and accompanies her every move during her tentative first steps as an Empress trying to drag an Empire out of a sea of blood and filth that had already been given up for lost. Corvo is not officially a political key figure, but effectively, because of what he’s done for the Empire, because of what he’s endured to save Emily and what he means to her now, because of how much trust in humanity he has lost through all the time he had been betrayed, Corvo is the one steering the course of the Empire together with her, and it adds to his other duties, and his _memories_ , and Daud barely dares to imagine how much pain it causes him at times.

When he thinks about how many of Corvo’s scars, physical and mental ones, had been caused by him it deepens the burning hole etched deeply into Daud’s heart.

_I don’t want to keep you from your work_ , Corvo signs, making Daud snap out of his brooding. Daud doesn’t recognize all the gestures, but enough to understand that Corvo doesn’t wish to bother him.

“It’s alright. Sitting here with you is remotely more interesting than reading Scott’s report on the drinking habits of Lady Estermont,” Daud hurries to reply, a sarcastic little smirk on his face.

Corvo huffs and nudges Daud’s arm with his elbow, but then he shuffles a little closer and leans into him. Daud stiffens, but forces himself to relax, more for Corvo’s sake than for his own enjoyment. After a while, Daud carefully, slowly lifts his arm behind Corvo’s back and wraps it around his shoulders, muscles tense and ready to snatch his arm away again should Corvo show any signs of discomfort.

He doesn’t, and Daud gently pulls him against his side.

They remain like that for a while, quietly listening to the sound of the rain outside. The soft mattress forms a dent under their weights, so that gravity pushes them against each other. Daud takes a deep breath and tries not to think too much about the warm sensation of being pressed so closely against his soulmate. It deeply stirs Daud in a way he usually never feels about any other person and he’s once again reminded that that particular part of the tales about soulmates seems to be true, irritatingly so. Trying to distract himself from it he turns his head a little to take a look at Corvo.

Corvo has his eyes closed, and his shoulder-long, brown hair looks a little disheveled, like he’s been outside in the wind and rain.

A dead leaf is stuck in one of the strands and Daud reaches up to pluck it out.

Corvo startles a little when Daud touches his hair, and Daud quickly takes his hand away again.

“Sorry, there is… you got a leaf in your hair.”

Corvo smiles apologetically and signs _It’s fine_. He casts a meaningful gaze out of the window where the rain is running down the glass in noisy trickles, some dead leaves stuck to the wet surface. Then he makes a plucking motion with his hand and points to his hair, clearly asking Daud to remove the leaf.

Daud does so and shows it to Corvo before dropping it on the floor. Corvo smiles and signs again, asking if there’s more stuck in his hair.

“I can have a look, if you like,” Daud offers, and Corvo nods.

Daud shifts a little on the mattress, stubbornly ignoring the way his thigh rubs against Corvo’s while he moves, and lifts both hands to rake his fingers through the tangled strands on the back of Corvo’s head.

There are no more leaves, but Corvo’s hair feels soft and silky even under his gloved fingers, and Daud takes more time combing through his hair than necessary, mesmerized by the way the brown strands run over the worn leather.

It is only when Corvo arches his back and leans up into the touch that Daud realizes that Corvo seems to enjoy what he does, his eyes closed and a dreamy look on his face.

“Does that… feel nice?” Daud asks carefully.

Corvo nods slowly, not bothering to open his eyes.

Daud licks his lips and takes a slow breath, and then he moves his hands again, this time combing through Corvo’s hair a little more firmly.

Corvo immediately responds to it by pressing up against the touch, tilting his head over to Daud to give him an easier job of it. Corvo’s hands, before tense and clenched, are resting lightly on his thighs, and Daud notices the line of his shoulders drop visibly as he relaxes.

Daud curves his fingers and digs them deeply into the soft mess of Corvo’s hair to let his fingertips graze over Corvo’s scalp, massaging it gently.

Corvo inhales sharply and blinks once, then he closes his eyes again and lets out his breath, and the sound of it sends a shiver run down Daud’s spine. Daud hesitates shortly, but then, following an impulse, raises one hand to his mouth to pull the dark leather of his gloves loose with his teeth and quickly strips the glove, repeating the same with the other hand. If Corvo notices the way Daud tosses the gloves away carelessly, eager to get his hands back into his hair as fast as possible, he doesn’t let it show.

The feeling of Corvo’s hair on Daud’s now naked skin is… too good.

Daud massages Corvo’s scalp firmer now, drawing circles and curvy lines with his fingertips, gently pulling knots loose and letting the soft strands run over his knuckles while he combs through his hair, and by the Outsider the look of utter pleasure on Corvo’s face is something Daud knows will haunt him in his sleep for he can’t say how long.

Corvo is enjoying the massage so much he all but melts against Daud’s side, his shoulders slumped in relaxation and his head tilted slightly forward so Daud can reach the sensitive area right above his neck. Daud’s gaze never leaves his face, mesmerized by the feeling of Corvo’s hair on his bare hands and the man’s dreamy expression, not quite smiling but almost, his elegant lips slightly parted. Corvo’s forehead has that delicate little wrinkle between his brows that never seems to disappear now matter what mood he’s in, giving him his typical look of thoughtful, gentle solicitude, and now his brow is creased in a slight frown as if he’s miles away, lost in the sensation.

And then Daud’s fingertips graze over that spot of soft skin right behind the ear, above the jaw, and Corvo _moans_.

It’s a very breathy, shuddery sound, more a kind of voiced exhale, and combined with the way Corvo arches up and presses into Daud’s touch, anxious to lose the contact and _hungry_ for more, Daud feels his mouth turn dry.

He shouldn’t do this.

All of a sudden Daud feels incredibly self-conscious, because this is getting too far, too fast, and way too late Daud realizes just _how much_ he enjoys doing this for Corvo, and how his body responds to it beyond his control.

Daud hurries to shift his hips on the bed, biting his lip at the pain in his tense abdomen area and prays that Corvo hasn’t noticed.

A voice in the dark back of Daud’s mind yells at him that he does not, _will never_ deserve the honor to see that look of wistful pleasure on Corvo’s face, or hear that soft moan escaping his beautiful lips. Daud longs to make amends in any way possible, longs to chase the pained shadows from Corvo’s eyes, and he will do _anything_ for his soulmate to feel happy, but _this_ …

Daud is enjoying it far more than he should, and as much as Corvo seems to like it, it feels… _wrong_ to Daud, _abusive_ , it feels like something he does not _deserve_ to do, because this is something reserved for a person truly connected to Corvo’s heart, a person he loved and that is now dead, killed by Daud’s hands.

Daud’s inner turmoil must have shown in the tension of his fingers, because he can see Corvo frown a little and he blinks.

Suddenly, heavy steps echo in the corridor outside Daud’s quarters, causing them both to flinch violently, and Daud quickly snatches his hands away from Corvo’s hair.

Whoever is walking in the corridor is moving away, but Corvo and Daud both had been startled, as if afraid of getting caught doing something forbidden, something disgraceful.

It’s like a spell is broken.

Daud folds his hands in his lap, kneading his fingers and flushed with the sensation of Corvo’s hair on his skin, a phantom of the warm softness remaining on his hands. Corvo blinks as if waking up from a dream, and he looks slightly ashamed and self-conscious as if realizing for the first time just how caught up he was under Daud’s touch.

For a while, neither of them speaks, and they remain sitting next to each other on the mattress.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” Daud finally says, and breaks off again, unsure what he even wants to apologize for. He briefly considers thanking Corvo for letting him massage him, but decides against it.

A touch on his shoulder has him look up, and he meets Corvo’s gaze. His soulmate is still looking a little embarrassed, but he lifts his hands, hesitating. Eventually, without looking at Daud, he signs _That was very nice. Thank you_.

The gesture for his thanks is made with two hands instead of one, as if to enhance its meaning.

Daud makes to shake his head, but Corvo signs again and he remains silent. Daud doesn’t understand all of the words, but he understands in fragments that Corvo asks him why he stopped or why he’s looking so insecure, something of that nature, but when Daud frowns in confusion Corvo just waves his hands dismissively as if he wants to avoid the topic after all.

The man stands up and walks over to the rack that holds his weapons, and picks up the foldable sword, holding it out to Daud.

An invitation, delivered with a careful smile.

“You want to spar? In the rain?”

Corvo nods enthusiastically.

“You are a strange man, Corvo Attano,” Daud growls, but then he shrugs, gathers his gloves and stands up.

* * *

Corvo is not sure whether the heavy rainfall or the sweat from the exhaustion is worse, but when the last bit of his skin is drenched he is long past caring. He wipes his hand across his face to remove the drops from his eyes that are running through his hair and trickle down his cheeks, and parries Daud’s blow.

Corvo is vaguely aware of the spectators, watching from under the roof of a walkway that spans the sparring yard. They keep a careful, wary distance to the two men sparring, and Corvo knows his duel with Daud must be hard to follow for their eyes, a flurry of dark blue and dark red shadows dancing around each other, every now and then stopping to raise a hand as they shatter the continuum of time around them.

It’s not the first time he sparred with Daud since his soulmate came to the Tower, and it’s always a pleasure for Corvo to do so. Most of the guards he’s training and even the experienced, weathered veterans fail to offer a true challenge to Corvo, but Daud… Daud is a delight.

Daud feints to Corvo’s left flank and immediately spins around faster than Corvo can follow and rains a rapid succession of blows on him, the smooth, powerful movements mesmerizing to watch. The rain has soaked Daud’s thin shirt through and it’s clinging to his chest, and during the short moments it takes him to stop time with his magic Corvo can see his muscles shifting under the fabric, and it’s almost infuriating how much it fascinates him. Each one of Daud’s strikes is precise and elegant and so hard to parry, but Corvo makes it and lurches forward himself and delivers a kick to the man’s knee. Daud jumps to the side to evade the kick and Corvo uses the gap in his defense to strike, and his arms hurt from the clash of their swords, making his ears ring with the sound of steel against steel.

It’s glorious.

They are both panting with exhaustion, soaked to the bone and splattered with mud, and Corvo _knows_ Daud enjoys it as much as he does. His earlier frustration before coming to Daud had all but dissolved into goose bumps under Daud’s gentle massage, and it had caught Corvo off guard just how much that kind of intimacy had pleased both of them, and how eager he had been to allow Daud to massage him, something he hasn’t been willing to allow since…

_Since_.

Corvo’s willingness to tolerate that kind of attention from another person surprises him, but if he’s very honest he’s been hoping for Daud to get past his steely defenses for quite some time already. The cracks in the wall around Daud’s self had been more prominent than ever when he had massaged him, a glimpse of that suppressed, carefully incarcerated _something_ shining through, a _something_ Corvo longs to know more about, until Daud had suddenly retreated back behind his barrier. Corvo is not sure what had caused it, slightly disappointed by the sudden end of the massage, but he knows questioning Daud about it is useless, feeling the tide of dark brooding rising in his soulmate again.

Corvo’s proposal to spar was not only to take his own mind off things, transforming his leftover anger and worries into raw energy and letting them seep out through the inciting pain in his sword arm. It was also to offer Daud a way to blow off some steam and Corvo hopes he’ll feel better afterwards.

Also, Corvo _really_ had felt the need to occupy his treacherous body with something else, and the rain provides the cold shower that he had been in dire need of. Immediately.

Part of Corvo wonders if Daud had experienced the same… _problem_ and is equally relieved over the physical distraction their duel offers.

Thinking about _how much_ he had enjoyed his soulmate’s attention is… understandable, in a way, since the stories do have a strict opinion on what a soulmate bond should be about. Also, Corvo had been deprived of contact to a trusted person for what feels like forever, but still his heart makes a painful little lurch when he asks himself whether he’s ready for anybody, _Daud_ in particular, eliciting _that_ kind of emotions in him.

The answer is something he doesn’t dare to think about.

Their blades clash noisily and Corvo watches Daud’s face, searches for a sign of his next move, and Daud just bares his teeth at him, grinning briefly before he feints again and lets Corvo stumble into empty air. A quick succession of elegant blows follows and a second later Corvo lies sprawled out in the mud on his back, the point of Daud’s blade hovering over his chest.

Corvo grins as he gasps for breath, eyes closed, and relishes the rain pattering softly on his mud-coated face.

“Good fight, Corvo,” Daud rasps, breathing heavily, and when Corvo opens his eyes he sees Daud’s outstretched hand above him. He grabs it and lets himself be pulled to his feet.

Still aware of the spectators a little distance away, Corvo resist the urge to shake Daud’s hand or slap his back, and settles for a polite nod instead. Daud nods too, already turning away, wiping his muddy blade on his coat. The suggestive shine in Daud’s piercing, steel gray eyes hasn’t eluded him, though.

Daud spins around all of a sudden, but Corvo had been warned and so he makes it to jerk up his sword hand in time to parry the blow, the force of the impact almost knocking him over again. Corvo grunts and shakes the wet strands from his eyes that are clinging to the sides of his face and counters, and when he drives Daud back with powerful blows he can see the wide grin behind Daud’s snarl, and he feels his cheeks hurt as he mirrors it.

Later, when they are done and retreat from the yard, exhausted and filled with bliss, the rain stops, rays of sunlight piercing the cover of clouds.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**IX.**

“This is the place, Sir.”

“Well done, Rickard. Resume your position, Thomas and I will take over.”

Rickard bows and disappears. Daud and Thomas warily sneak closer, casting careful glances around them. The massive vine is already visible in their Void Gaze, as long as two grown men and almost as thick, jerking and twitching like a dying snake, but completely silent. The only sound it makes is when the foot-long thorns scrape against the wall of the sewer where it grows from the muddy ground, looking awfully misplaced among the brick walls like a curiosity from a Pandyssian jungle rather than a plant of Dunwall.

Daud motions for Thomas to distract the vine from attacking them as soon as they enter the tunnel while Daud quickly checks on his men.

Five of his best Whalers, Misha, Devon, Feodor, Coleman and Thomas, as well as the three rookies who found the vine, are accompanying Daud. He can see their silhouettes distributed around him in a carefully planned pattern, glowing faintly yellow among the otherworldly blue haze, and Daud snaps back into his normal vision with a satisfied grunt.

The tunnel they are about to enter reeks of rotten seaweed and things that died long ago. It is a sewer close to the base of the Kaldwin Bridge in the Estate District, on the same side of the Wrenhaven as the Tower. The rain had stopped yesterday after Daud’s spar with Corvo, and faint sunlight streams in through the sewer openings, but fails to make the place look any less uninviting.

Thomas renders the vine immobile with his Tethering, motions for Daud to come closer and points to the corpse next to the plant Rickard had told them about.

Daud makes a face. He is not unfamiliar with badly messed up bodies, but what the vine did to that Hatter makes the corpse barely recognizable as human any more. Through his Void Gaze Daud can see the lower half of the broken dart hidden under a piece of driftwood, glowing green against the blue haze. He bends down and picks up the dart, the thistle seed fletching wet and muddy.

The vine is placed next to the dark tunnel that leads deeper into the bowels of the city, like a quiet warning to scare off anyone stupid enough to enter, like Rickard suggested. Daud exchanges a look with Thomas, and his second in command nods approvingly. He also thinks this is a promising location, then. Daud transverses over to the tunnel opening and carefully scrapes some slimy algae from the brick wall.

There is a drawing under the muck, old, but still recognizable as a rat within a circle of thorns, surrounded by runes, a bloody knife in its paws. Daud beckons for Thomas to come closer and nods to the drawing.

“I’ve seen the likes of this before. In Delilah’s gallery. Drawings and rune patters all over the walls,” he whispers.

“It looks old.”

“It does. But it’s something. We’re going in.”

Thomas nods his assent and motions for the Whalers to come closer, and they descend into the gaping tunnel in groups of three, each one waiting a minute before they follow the group before.

The tunnel seems to go on forever, and Daud briefly regrets not having put on a mask himself. His Void Gaze is far better than the version his men borrow from him through the Arcane Bond, so seeing in the dark is no problem for him, but the stink of the chilly, stale air is so intense he has to willingly force himself to breathe through his mouth. His thoughts briefly stray to Corvo, and the man’s subtle, earthy scent and his warmth when he presses up against Daud’s back, both wrapped comfortably in blankets, listening to the sounds of the city before sunrise. Daud chides himself for the infuriating flutters erupting in his stomach at the thought and forces himself to focus on the task at hand. His instincts tell him that danger awaits them.

After a while, a faint shine of light appears at what looks like the end of the tunnel. The light is purple, the color of burning whale oil, and it illuminates another vine close to the end. The plant seems less alert than the one they encountered before, and its slow, sloppy motions cast an eerie shadow play on the worn-down bricks of the tunnel walls.

Daud motions for the others to wait and briefly checks the area that lies behind the tunnel with his inner eye, but he can’t see anything resembling a human, only a few more of the large, thorny vines, all of them moving slowly and twitchy, as if they are suffering.

“I can’t see anyone in there. Let’s kill this thing as quietly as possible and then we go in and have a look,” Daud whispers to Thomas and the man beckons Misha and Devon to follow him. They position themselves around the vine and wait for Daud’s signal. He summons the Void around him and grabs the vine with his Tethering, holding it still while Thomas and Misha cut the base with quick, efficient strikes of their blades. Daud grits his teeth as he holds the plant still and feels it resist and struggle against his magical grip, slippery and jerky like some massive eel, and he hisses at them to hurry. As soon as the plant’s stem is severed, it turns black and writhes on the dirty ground in a puddle of thick, green sap.

“This one is a lot less agile than the one we saw above the ground,” Coleman observes. She gives the vine a kick with her boot, causing it to twitch once more before it becomes slack.

“Maybe it’s because of the lack of sunlight,” Rickard suspects. Daud shoots him an approving look and nods to himself.

“Could be. Let’s waste no time, we’re going in. I’ll take the left side with my group, Thomas the right side. The others stay near the entrance in case there’s a surprise waiting for us. If anything moves in there catch them, but don’t kill.”

Daud takes the lead and makes his way into what turns out to be a large, open hall underground, the ceiling a mess of dripping pipes oozing their content into the deep puddles that take up the parts of the floor that isn’t covered in debris. The scarce light comes from some scattered whale oil lamps, tinting the place partly purple and partly green from the reflection of the omnipresent brackish water. The tunnel they just came through is not the only entrance, there are several other dark tunnels leading away from the hall, most of them dribbling more filthy looking water onto the floor.

It soon becomes clear to Daud, after checking every corner of the hall carefully through the empty blue hue of his Void Gaze and the signals Thomas waves to him from the other side of the hall, that whoever inhabited this place is gone.

Daud curses under his breath and sheaths his blade. He signals the Whalers to gather around him.

“Looks like we missed them, whoever they were. Let’s see if we can find anything useful. Upend the place, but be quiet in case anybody decided to eavesdrop on us,” Daud advises his men, trying to hide his frustration about not immediately stumbling upon the makers of the vine-birthing darts.

The men and women nod their assent and distribute to comb the hall, and Daud finally finds the time to just stand on a large chunk of debris and take the scene in.

Daud is not sure what he had expected, but certainly not this.

The hall seems to be a makeshift greenhouse combined with a laboratory. The floor, a mixture of muck and muddy water, serves as a substrate for several large thorny vines, and judging by the circles of whale oil lamps around each one the… _gardeners_ had tried to supply them with light, but the vines move slow and almost drowsily, making Daud once more agree with Rickard’s earlier observation that they seem to require sunlight to sustain their destructive force. Above the vines, at a safe distance, are walkways made of half-rotten boards and corrugated iron sheets, much like the walkways in Rudshore. Some of the walkways carry tables loaded with laboratory equipment and vials.

Some of the vials glow pink.

Daud transverses over to one of the tables and joins Coleman, who had picked up a beaker filled with the pink substance.

“This is the stuff Jenkins is fussing over all the time, I presume?” she asks.

Daud nods. “Here they seem to have made the darts, or at least produced the liquid that contains the spores and nutrients the vines need to grow.”

He takes the vial from Coleman’s hand and upends it to let its content pour onto the floor a few feet below them. Immediately, a vine as long as three men shoots out of the mucky ground, whipping and snatching its thorny length about. Coleman takes a few steps back and curses when the end of the vine barely misses her ankle with the dagger-like thorns.

“Seems to work alright,” she comments.

Daud grunts and transverses up to a higher walkway. Thomas joins him, Pickford and Devon in tow.

“Master Daud, we took a look into two of the tunnels leading away from the main hall. There are beds and shelves, as if a group of people used to live here, about two dozen persons. The beds look like they haven’t been used at least since the rainfalls, though. Every inch of this place drips.”

Daud curses. “Too late, then, whoever set up camp here decided to leave. We found the place they made the darts in, though. Seemingly they abandoned the place not long ago and left the vines they created back to rot. Most of them are as good as wilted.”

“That one looks pretty vivid to me, Sir,” Feodor points out and jerks his thumb towards the large, twitching mass of thorns below them.

“That was him,” Coleman comments and pokes Daud’s shoulder.

Daud grunts and tries not to smirk as Thomas bristles visibly. “Anything else?”

“More of the drawings. Rune circles, rats, flowers.”

“No papers, books or notes…?”

“Just this soaked letter, Sir. It does look a lot like members of the Brigmore Witches coven used to live here, breed the vines and make the darts we found, but they are no longer here,” Thomas summarizes and hands him the letter.

Daud feels a ripple of shared frustration from his men, and he briefly looks at the folded, sodden piece of paper Thomas had given him. He decides to read the letter thoroughly later and places it on the laboratory table next to him, unopened.

A faint sound makes him startle, and he opens his inner eye.

A yellow silhouette is moving on all fours quite distance away from them, just at the edge of his perception. Daud blinks and his men visibly tense when he draws his blade and crouches, letting his mark flare. Daud transverses over to the tunnel entrance he has seen the creature move behind and quietly sneaks in.

A piercing shriek startles him and then a rock the size of his fist is being hurled his way, and Daud reacts just in time to raise his left hand, and the world turns gray.

Daud doesn’t move, frozen in time, and registers the creature, a scrawny, bristly looking woman. She is trying to move away from him, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she’s severely injured. Daud directs his transversal over to her. She lets out a pained squeal as he knocks her over the head with the hilt of his sword and presses her onto the ground. He points two fingers into a corner and Thomas steps out of nothing, rushing over to help him hold the woman in place.

“Bring her to the laboratory, to the others. We’ll question her there,” he orders.

Thomas nods, holding the woman with a blade pressed to her throat. It seems to Daud that she won’t try to fight or run again, since a steady trickle of blood is slowly staining the short, formerly elegant coat she wears. When he turns back again before following Thomas, Daud notices the purple glow coming from the tunnel she’s been hiding in, and the floating cloth, blue with golden embroidery, hanging from the ceiling.

Daud frowns and decides to take a look at _that_ thing later.

The Whalers surround them when he joins Thomas on the walkway next to the laboratory table. Upon seeing her up close, it is obvious that the woman is indeed a member of the Brigmore Witches, her hairdo tousled and the roses in it wilted. Her coat is mostly the deep red of dried blood and the odd green tinge Daud had observed on the skin of other Witches, a sign of the magical powers they shared with Delilah, is not to be seen.

“Hold her,” Daud orders Thomas, and his second in command does so while Devon and Misha stand to his sides, making sure the woman doesn’t escape. Daud directs his gaze on her.

“If you fight back, we’ll kill you, but should you decide to cooperate we will tend to your wounds, or at least give you something to stop the pain. Your choice,” he states dryly. The witch’s dark glare doesn’t allow him to gauge whether she’s resisting or simply in pain. Daud continues.

“Where are the others?”

“Gone,” she hisses, breathing heavily.

“Why are you growing these vines, and what are the darts for?” Daud asks, ignoring her answer.

The witch just glares. Thomas shoots Daud a subtle look, as if waiting for his permission to drive his blade into the witch’s wound and deepen it to encourage her to talk, or something of that nature, but Daud answers that with a slight shake of his head. When he was still the leader of the most feared band of assassins in the entire Empire, Daud had had little remorse over using used torture here and there if necessary to get his answers or make a point, even if he never enjoyed it. But that’s not his way anymore.

“You won’t survive these wounds, face it. If you tell me what I want to know you might. What caused them?” Daud says calmly.

“Got too close to the plants,” the witch admits after a pause. Her eyes dart back and forth between the Whalers as if she is looking for something, and Daud assumes she’s waiting for a chance to escape. He knows she won’t come far with that injury.

“Why were you left behind?”

The witch lets out a pained little gasp, and stares at the bloodstain that covers most of her belly now. Her eyes briefly dart up to Daud and she narrows them slightly.

“You got medicine?”

Daud doesn’t answer, but nods towards Pickford and the man steps forward, showing her a vial of Sokolov’s Elixir. The woman’s eyes widen and she gasps in pain again.

“Tell us,” Daud snarls.

“I… I came back.”

“Why?”

The witch stares longingly at the red vial in Pickford’s hand, but her loyalty seems to be stronger than her pain, at least for now.

Daud tilts his head slightly, his raspy voice quiet and calm. “Who is leading you, now that your beloved Delilah is dead?”

Those words finally have an effect. The witch’s head snaps around, her teeth bared and her features twisted with fury.

“We will make you suffer, little toad, all of you! Mistress Delilah’s death will be revenged, you hear me! Lady Ashes will read signs from your guts when she’s done with her plans, and Delilah will be _revenged_!” the witch yells, squirming in Thomas’ firm grip. Daud waits, patiently, for a chance to use her outburst to break her resistance, to tease more answers out of her.

He opens his mouth to speak, but all of a sudden, the witch’s contorted features fall, and her stare fixes on something a little distance away from Daud, her eyes wide with panic.

Daud frowns and watches her face. The witch snaps out of her shock immediately, staring back at him with anger blazing in her eyes, but Daud still turns slightly to see what she has been staring at so suddenly.

There is nothing dangerous or alarming to be seen next to him, just the laboratory table with the vials and beakers, and…

_And the letter_.

Daud makes to shout a warning, but it’s too late. Within a matter of one incredibly chaotic second, the witch lets out a violent shriek and twists herself out of Thomas’ grip, mustering all of her leftover strength in one last desperate outburst. She lurches over to the table, grabs the letter and stuffs it in her mouth, and when Coleman is by her side to stop her, the witch has already grabbed a beaker of the pink liquid and downed the whole glass.

“Retreat, quickly! Get back!” Daud barks, stepping back from the witch. His Whalers react immediately and transverse away from the witch, gathering at a safe distance.

While they watch, the witch collapses and falls to the walkway, clutching her throat, and her pained scream echoes in the hall so loudly that Daud is sure it will be heard all the way up to the surface. The woman twists and arches her back, and then she starts shining from inside, a deep red tinged with pink as if there’s a fire burning inside her. With a disgusting wet cracking sound, several vines pierce their way out of the vessel they’ve been planted in, ripping the witch’s body in shreds and leaving her a mess of blood and bowels.

Daud and the Whalers remain silent, staring at the leftovers of the witch in disbelief. After their initial shock is over, Daud growls in frustration.

“ _Fuck_. Did anyone of you read that letter before she swallowed it?”

The Whalers shake their heads, and Daud lets out a tirade of curses, pacing up and down the walkway. Now he _knows_ the letter must have been important, and he racks his brain to remember anything of its content from the way too short glimpse he had caught of the paper, but it’s no use. Daud briefly regrets not having allowed Thomas to torture the answers they need so badly out of the damned witch, his thoughts elicited by a sharp flare of anger and frustration. Just a second afterwards he makes up his mind, chiding himself for his thoughts. Daud had sworn himself to change his ways, tired of killing and violence, and even though the situation tears at his already strained nerves he’s not going to back up from the promise he made to himself.

Daud turns back to his men who are standing on the walkway, engaged in lively discussions of what just went wrong and what they should have done better. Some even accuse Coleman of not reacting fast enough, and Thomas looks so abashed about his failure to hold the witch back as if he wishes for the ground to swallow him.

“Enough sulking! We have to make do with what we got,” Daud barks sharply, and the Whalers immediately fall silent, snapping out of their shock.

“Taking into account what just happened, the leftover Brigmore Witches had set up their base here to produce the darts or at least harvest the substance that creates the vines,” Daud continues. He points to the bloody remains of the witch. “She was sent back, and if I had to guess I’d say she was sent to retrieve the letter, since it contained some important information, something they were afraid to fall into the wrong hands. What do you think?”

Thomas steps forward. “Sir, I agree. When I held her she was looking around her all the time, and I bet she was looking for the letter. Her fellow witches must have forgotten it and she came back to fetch it before anyone else could read it, getting hurt before she could find it.”

“If you had held her a little tighter we would have our answers now,” Devon mutters, causing Thomas to shrink in on himself.

“Shut it, that’s not helping anybody,” Daud snarls, and Devon bows his head.

“Sir?” Rickard pipes up. He straightens a little when Daud signals him to speak. “I think the witches have something planned, something very important to them, and if they plan to revenge Delilah’s death, it can’t be good.”

Daud nods his agreement. “Obviously so. If she was ready to die to protect the letter’s content before allowing it to fall in our hands, it must have been vital to whatever they have planned to revenge Delilah, a well-kept secret. The witch was afraid that we would stop her sisters’ plans if we found out, that’s the only explanation for her action.” He sighs deeply, wondering how that damned Delilah managed to haunt him even if she was long dead.

“What do we do now, Master Daud?” Dodge wants to know.

“We search the place one more time. It’s a fucking shame we didn’t get the information the letter probably provided, but anyway you’ll take a look at every detail around here, no matter how minor it seems. Thomas, you come with me. When we are done we’ll return to the Tower,” Daud announces.

As his men go about their work, now much more on edge and swords drawn in case of another surprise, Daud beckons Thomas to follow him. His mind is racing, and his entire thoughts circle around Delilah, and what she had almost accomplished had the Whalers and him not stopped her. Taking over Emily’s body, ruling as a possessing force behind her eyes… If the witches, fanatically following their Mistress’ course, plan to revenge her, Daud knows that can only mean one thing: Emily is their target, and if they prepare darts that cause violent plants to erupt that stab and strangle their victim to death, whatever the witches have planned can only be disastrous.

And Corvo will protect Emily, no matter what. With his life, if necessary.

Daud’s heart turns into a lump of ice at the thought, beating painfully in his chest and making his ears drone with panic.

He quickly pushes his thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand. He walks back to where he stumbled upon the witch before. The entrance of the side tunnel is illuminated by purple light, and when Daud and Thomas carefully round the corner, Daud’s suspicions are confirmed.

A shrine for the Outsider is wedged into the narrow tunnel, a mess of rotten wood, barbed wire and billowing shrouds of blue, embroidered fabric. The carefully arranged whale oil lamps tint the shrine purple, and on the small altar lie some darts, glowing pink.

Daud curses under his breath and approaches the shrine. Thomas lingers behind, but Daud knows he stays close, watching with an almost reverent fascination.

When Daud stretches out his gloved hand to pick up the darts, the world shudders and narrows around him as if a bodiless force is holding him still, the scent of brine and the eternal breath of the ocean filling the air.

“Daud, my old friend.”

Daud bites back a curse as the Outsider materializes from within an otherworldly black shadow like a squid from a cloud of ink. Unperturbed, the Outsider cocks his head to the side and watches him with his pitch black eyes, the slightest hint of a smirk on his pale, pretty lips.

“Isn’t it fascinating how much your life has changed after Corvo spared you? I am older than the rocks this place is built on and even I have never seen two of my few marked ones sharing a soulmate bond. What is the possibility for that to happen? One in a million? Even more? Maybe I should ask Sokolov about it when I haunt him in his dreams again. It’s always a pleasure to see him beg me to show him my face.”

The Outsider folds his arms and smiles at Daud, as if waiting for a compliment on his joke. Daud just shoots him a dark glare. The last thing he needs is the black-eyed bastard teasing him about his bond with Corvo.

“Two marks on Corvo’s skin, and only one on yours. I know you’ve only ever feared few things in your life, Daud, but now, for the first time ever, you fear for the life of a person that means so much more to you than you care to admit, isn’t that so?”

Daud decides to not dignify that with an answer, and hopes the sudden tightness in his chest doesn’t show on his face.

“The darts the witches made… Did you infuse them with your magic, so that they work better?” he asks, mostly to change the topic, but also because some of the darts are placed on the altar of the shrine.

The Outsider slowly shakes his head. “No. They did offer them to me, asking for my blessing, but I do not care about them. You wonder about this new threat, don’t you, Daud? Another mystery, and you are so very eager to solve it, but this time… This time not for your own sake, but for the sake of the person you destroyed. Do you think you can redeem yourself? Will it be enough? Will anything ever be enough for Corvo to forgive you, to return your feelings for him?”

Daud clenches his fists, a surge of white-hot fear and anger rising inside him as the Outsider prods at his deepest wounds with a glowing knife. The Whale God tilts his head again, offering him his infuriating smile.

“The witch said something you might find useful before she died. Think, Daud. You’ve heard that name before.”

Daud opens his mouth to ask him what in the Void he means, but before he can do so, the Outsider vanishes, and Daud snaps out of his stupor with a painful start.

“Are you alright, Sir? You were in a daze,” Thomas asks, approaching him carefully.

“I’m fine.”

“Did… Did the Outsider talk to you?”

Thomas looks seriously worried, if his slightly raised hand and tense posture are anything to go by, and Daud hurries to shake off the odd, prickling feeling that runs down his spine like a dark chill. “Don’t worry, I’m alright. He did talk to me, and he hinted that he had no interference in the making of the pink darts.”

“I thought so, Master. The witch could have used a transversal to escape us, but she didn’t. So they do not possess any magical abilities anymore, like we guessed.”

Daud nods. “Also, when I caught her she tossed a rock at me. No matter how hurt she was, if she had any kind of magical powers she would have used them to defend herself, but not throw a rock. The Outsider also said that the witch revealed something, probably unintentionally… A name. Do you remember what it was?”

Thomas thinks for a moment. “Lady… Lady Ashes, wasn’t it?”

“That’s it. He said I’ve heard that name before.”

“Have you, Sir?”

Daud frowns. “I can’t remember to be honest. I need time to think about it. Let’s gather the others and see if they found anything, and return home.”

_Back to Corvo_ , his treacherous mind adds, making him frown.

Thomas nods, collects the leftover darts from the shrine and they leave the tunnel.

* * *

“Is that what I think it is?” Callista asks the Watch officer upon entering the Tower garden. The man stands on the stairs leading towards the garden, and Callista joins him, watching the scenery before them with a shared look of disbelief.

Two of Daud’s Whalers, a man and a woman, are playing fetch with the Empress. She is riding piggyback on one of them while he chases the other, and the girl is squealing with excitement. Every once in a while, a swirl of shadows envelops them and they reappear at another place, and each time the Empress lets out a whoop of joy, ordering the Whaler she’s clutching to run faster.

“Apparently, it is,” the officer says resignedly.

Callista stares at Emily again, looking for signs of discomfort around the men that she considers to be the very last thing on the long list of acquaintances a young Empress should make. Emily on the other hand seems to enjoy their company, and especially the horrible displays of dark magic. At least the two Whalers have left their industrial masks on a nearby table. Seeing their faces behind the eerie masks makes them a little easier to look at, but only a little.

“ _Why_?” Callista manages to ask.

The officer sighs, his tone suggesting that he’s not pleased at all about this arrangement, but has been ordered by the Empress herself to accept it. “Well, Lord Attano went off to join the Watch in an investigation, somewhere around Draper’s Ward, and the Spymaster has assigned two of his men to guard the Empress while her Lord Protector is away.”

“Same question, Officer,” Callista says.

“The Spymaster said he doesn’t trust the usual guards’ skills, and that his men are way more suited to keep her Highness safe.”

Callista shakes her head. “But… What about Lord Attano? He would never agree with that!”

“Apparently, he does. He’s gotten very… cautious, understandably so. It seems he genuinely trusts the Spymaster and his men, at least more so than the Watch.”

“I don’t see why he should.”

“Me neither. But the Empress agreed on these… _people_ spending time with her. She seems to have taken a liking on the Spymaster, whatever her reasons.”

“Now that you mention it, Lord Attano seems to spend quite some time with the Spymaster, even though he, of all people, should have more than enough reasons to hate him,” Callista muses, frowning.

The officer shrugs. “Well, as far as I have heard pretty much everybody in court during Burrows’ short reign has betrayed Lord Attano at least once, but that Knife of Du… I mean, Spymaster, kind of has a dept to pay if you look at it that way, so he’ll behave. I don’t know. Apparently they have made peace. If I was to place a bet I’d say it’s because of their jobs being so tightly interwoven.”

“I still find them terrifying,” Callista says, glaring at the ex-assassins darkly.

“Me too.”

They shake their heads as the Empress starts playing hide-and-seek with the Whalers, one of them standing in front of a wall, counting to ten while the other one helps Emily to climb up a tree, following her with his strange magic, and they sit between the branches, snickering conspiratorially.

* * *

She watches as the little Empress runs through the Tower garden, laughing while she chases behind a woman in a dark blue uniform. The watcher frowns when she recognizes the woman as one of Daud’s Whalers, but turns her head sharply when she hears soft footsteps on the roof next to her.

“Something happened, my dear, something terrible.”

The watcher on the roof is joined by her sister, and together they hide in the shadows of a chimney.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Our lair, the lair with the green ones, we had to leave it behind. It was getting too dangerous.”

“I know, love, I know. Brunhilde told me quite a while ago. What about Abbie? Did she make it back with the letter before any wandering eyes could read it?”

“No, she is dead, the poor, poor thing. The little toad and his men came and kept her, the nasty ones. But she managed to destroy the letter, so the nasty ones are none the wiser. They won’t know about our ally, and the pretty, pretty new home he gave us to play in.”

Her sister grabs her shoulders, playing with the thistle blossoms and roses decorating her collar. “Don’t worry, dear, Lady Ashes will put his teeth on a silk thread once we are done. Abbie’s sacrifice will not be without avail. Fair Lady Ashes can continue our plans. They know nothing,” the other one says. Together, they return their gaze to the Tower garden, watching the Empress play with the Whalers.

“Where is the Empress’ shadow, the dark one, with the sad, pretty eyes?” she wants to know.

“Off he went, to the city, to snoop around. The little toad has ordered his men to guard the Empress instead while he is away.”

“How very interesting, my dear.”

“Our new friend will be most pleased to learn.”

“Oh yes, my dear, oh yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of fluff in this one, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. The next chapter will make up for it, I hope... ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**X.**

The frequency with which Emily visits Daud for practice lessons with the wristbow increases over time, and he’s starting to consider getting them a new portrait of Hiram Burrows, or somebody else both of them don’t like. Lord Pyne, maybe. The old portrait now looks like a slice of Tyvian cheese, full of holes, the former Spymaster on it barely recognizable anymore. Emily has gotten a lot better, and Daud rarely needs to steady her against the blowback of the wristbow. She is surprisingly good at aiming, despite her young age, and Daud wonders if it’s a talent she got from her father.

“See you then, Emily. You did very well today,” he says, guiding her towards the door.

“It was fun, I can’t wait for the next lesson. Say hello to Kieron and Montgomery and the other Whalers from me. They can come to play whenever they like,” Emily answers.

“I’ll make sure to greet them from you,” Daud promises, having to bite back a laugh when he thinks of how whiny Kieron had acted when he was assigned to babysitting Emily, and how much he had secretly enjoyed it. “Next time we’ll practice quick loading, if you like.”

“I’d very much like to. Thanks Daud!” Emily says, and her small frame straightens visibly as soon as Daud opens the door for her, and her excited, childish smile morphs into the serious, majestic mask of Empress Kaldwin.

“Your report has been most insightful, Royal Spymaster,” she says, her voice solemn, and offers Daud a courtly nod.

Daud has to suppress a fond smirk, noticing the mischievous twinkle in Emily’s eyes as she falls back into her official Imperial tone as if their meeting had been about diplomacy and paperwork instead of shooting wristbow bolts, like making a joke only the two of them understand.

“Always glad to be of service, your Highness,” Daud says with a deep bow, playing along.

Emily snickers quietly and waves at him before she turns around and leaves for her afternoon lessons. Daud waves back and closes the door behind her, his chest feeling oddly warm when he reflects on how natural it feels when his soulmate’s daughter is around. It’s only for the best, he muses. He’s incredibly thankful that Emily seems to be willing to let go of Daud’s past and her former animosity towards him, and he’s not sure whether it’s been so easy for her because she is very young, or because Corvo and him have grown much closer over the past months, and Emily approves of that, caring daughter that she is.

Daud returns to his desk to stash his wristbow away again, waiting for his second in command to arrive. Shortly after, Daud hears the soft click of the lock on his window and turns around in time to see Thomas pull it open with his Tethering, slipping into his office.

“Master Daud.”

“Thomas. Any movement around the sewer?”

“No, Master Daud. But I had the feeling I was being watched a few times more, and some of the men felt the same. The witches are around. It’s strange that we haven’t stumbled upon them so far. They can’t hide in the Tower area without being seen for long, because all of the buildings here are already inhabited by normal townsfolk again. A coven of witches would surely rouse attention.”

Daud hums thoughtfully. “They are resourceful. I’m sure if they wanted to set up a base of operation close to the Tower and the Empress, they would manage that.”

“I agree, Sir.”

Daud gestures to a narrow table that carries a tray with a pot of tea and some cups. Thomas thanks him, pulls off his mask and helps himself to a cup, cradling the hot drink in his hands. His messy blonde hair is mussed even more by the hood he had worn before and he briefly rakes a gloved hand through it.

Daud had considered suggesting something to Thomas for a while, but he is not sure if he is ready to bring the topic up. The matter of the leftover Brigmore Witches and their obviously harmful intentions has eaten at him for the last nights, and Daud has come to the conclusion that his Whalers and he shouldn’t handle this threat alone. If the witches’ plan is to revenge Delilah, they most probably will try to kill Emily, or kidnap her, or do whatever kind of madness they see fit to avenge their deceased Mistress. Whatever it is, it _needs_ to be stopped. Dunwall is in a state of recovery, but still stricken by the catastrophe over a year ago, and it won’t survive another dead Empress.

Furthermore, the mere thought of Daud’s soulmate getting hurt while protecting the Empress, or even killed, is tearing him apart from inside. Daud cannot, _will not_ let anything bad happen to Corvo, not after everything he already had allowed to happen to him.

That’s why he needs to act as Spymaster now, and include the Royal Protector in his investigations.

“Thomas, I want to tell Lord Attano about the witches.”

Thomas almost chokes on his tea.

He quickly places the cup back on the table and coughs against the back of his hand. The sudden break with his usual polite loyalty only lasts a moment, and Thomas rapidly regains his composure, expression stern, but slightly worried. He approaches Daud.

“But… But Sir! The Royal Spymaster is unbound, he can act as he sees fit without the Empress or her court knowing in order to protect the Empire. If we include Lord Attano in this, we are giving away control. He might even make it a matter of the City Watch, and then we’re losing all our say in it.”

“I am aware of what I’m allowed to do. It’s quite a lot, conveniently so. And I am very sure that Lord Attano will keep our investigations to himself, and not make it a matter of the Watch. Any kind of threat to the Empress is his concern too, after all, and I think we can use his help.”

Thomas looks skeptical, his muddy green eyes wide and his brow furrowed. “Sir, are you sure about this?”

“Tell me one good reason why we shouldn’t do it.”

Thomas sighs. “With all due respect, Master Daud… Do I have to say the obvious?”

Daud glances at him from the corner of his eye and registers how much it pains Thomas to utter so much as a word of backtalk to him, fiercely loyal as he is. Thomas doesn’t know about the soulmate bond Daud shares with Corvo, and it’s only logical of him to assume that Corvo hates Daud. For a long time, Daud had thought so too, until… Until Corvo had awoken that fragile little flicker of hope inside of Daud, hope that Corvo might consider forgiving him just a fraction of what he’s done, hope that the tender, delicate little spark of affection between them is real, and not just his own desperate pining.

“I know what you think, Thomas, and I admit it seems like we and Lord Attano would make the worst team one could think of, but I assure you he will cooperate. He’ll help us as best as he can and handle the case with absolute discretion. It’s in his interest too, after all. He’s the only other person in the Tower with an understanding for arcane matters,” Daud explains, still hesitant to bring up that _other_ reason, the ultimate reason for him to trust Corvo.

“But, Sir… I don’t think that would be wise.” Thomas looks like he’d love to say a lot more to counter Daud’s point, but doesn’t quite dare to do so.

Daud turns and faces him fully. “We need Corvo’s help to stop the witches. I trust him, Thomas, and he trusts me.”

“What makes you so sure of that, Master?”

Daud closes his eyes, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. He takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment and when he lets it out again, he says:

“Corvo is my soulmate.”

If Daud had punched Thomas in the face all of a sudden, he couldn’t have looked more shocked.

Thomas blinks at Daud, struggling for words. Finally, he asks: “Are you sure? I mean, why _him_? I thought you didn’t even have a mark.”

Daud rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore Thomas’ question why fate seems to have decided that Corvo and him, of all people, are made for each other, something Daud cannot think about without feeling like he’s slowly being crushed by one of those thorny vines. “Believe me, that was exactly my reaction when I discovered it. I don’t have a mark because Corvo was already unable to speak when we first met. But he has a mark, the first words I spoke to him are written on his lower back. So to answer your question, I am sure.”

Thomas stares at him in utter disbelief, and Daud realizes, way too late, that he had just unintentionally implied that he had seen Corvo naked.

“I… I mean… Damn, it’s not what you think. Someone told me about Corvo’s mark and I asked him to show it to me, and then we talked about it. That’s it,” Daud hurries to explain, hoping against all hope that the powerful flush that’s heating up his chest is not showing on his face.

Thomas nods carefully, visibly trying to get a hold of his surprise to not appear impolite, and Daud sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “It isn’t easy for me to talk about this, you know. I’m pretty fucking confused about the bond we have myself. Would it be too much to ask you to not hang a lantern on this matter? Please.”

Daud looks Thomas in the eye again, trying to gauge his second in command’s expression.

“Am I… The first one you told about this?”

Daud nods.

Thomas finally regains his self-control and his customary mask of unshakable loyalty snaps back into place, tinted with something thankful.

“I… Thank you for trusting me with this, Master. I feel honored. I promise I won’t spread word, but should anyone of the men want to know, what do you expect me to say?”

Daud sighs again. “When anybody of the men asks you about it, don’t lie, but don’t shout it from the rooftops either. I will tell Corvo about the witches very soon, and then we’ll arrange a meeting with him to discuss our strategy.”

“In that case, Sir, maybe cooperation will be a good idea after all,” Thomas states, sounding genuine, and Daud is incredibly thankful for him to recover from his shock so quickly, not making a big deal of the matter. Daud knows that when it comes to mere skill in fighting, there had been better candidates than Thomas for the position of his second, but he never regretted his choice. Thomas has his entire trust, and Daud knows he’ll never abuse it. Unlike other people he knew.

“Thanks, Thomas,” he says, and means it.

Thomas offers him one of his rare lopsided smiles before he puts his mask back on. He bows and leaves the office, disappearing in a flurry of nothing.

Daud stomps over to his desk, braces himself on the table surface and squeezes his eyes shut, focuses on breathing in and out. It’s all he does for a long moment, and finally his head stops spinning. He knows Thomas will keep this to himself, but still, admitting his soulmate bond with Corvo had been much harder than he had expected. It’s not about having a relationship with a man, none of the Whalers would only so much as bat an eye about that, it’s about having a relationship with _that_ man, of all the people in the world, a seemingly absurd joke of fate Daud had so far failed to understand.

Admitting to Corvo that he had never dared to tell him about the whole mess around Delilah and her damn witches isn’t a prospect to look forward to either. Daud has never lied to Corvo, but he is not sure how and if to talk about Delilah when it comes to the witches, a topic he won’t be able to avoid. Daud still feels like boasting about what he’d done to save Emily is a pathetic cry for attention, and back then he hadn’t even known that Corvo is his soulmate, so it hardly counts as _making amends_. Daud decides to bridge the topic of Delilah if he can, focusing on the present threat and not on the past.

The melodic chime of his clock draws him back into reality. Daud notices that it’s the time of the day during which Corvo often sits in his office doing paperwork, and before he can stop himself his treacherous feet have brought him to Corvo’s quarters.

Daud calls upon the powers of the Void and blinks when the world turns blue. Yellow silhouettes appear here and there behind the numerous doors of the Tower, moving about, and also Corvo’s muscular, lean frame is visible behind the wall of his office.

When Daud sees what Corvo is doing, he forgets to breathe.

Daud simply stares for a while, frozen to the spot, and when his Void Gaze ends he quickly summons it again, not able to tear his eyes away.

Corvo is dancing.

As far as Daud can tell, Corvo is standing in front of a mirror, holding an imaginative partner in his arms while he slowly waltzes through his room.

The most astounding thing about this is that Corvo is a _horrible_ dancer. He stumbles over his own feet and stops every few steps to start over as if it’s the first time he’s ever danced.

When Daud realizes how long he already had been staring he quickly switches back to his normal vision and pronouncedly knocks on the door to give Corvo some time to pull himself together.

Corvo opens and his face lights up immediately upon seeing Daud. His hands move, signing _Good to see you. Come in._

Daud thanks him and enters his quarters while Corvo closes the door behind them. Then he positions himself in front of Daud, who very carefully tries to hide that he has just seen Corvo doing his helpless dancing practices. Corvo signs again, and Daud thanks himself for every single hour he had spent practicing sign language with Corvo in the past months. Even though he never understands all of the words, he gets the overall meaning easily as long as Corvo signs not too fast and Corvo rarely needs to rely on his notepad any more.

_What can I do for you?_

“I wanted to tell you something very important, and I have a request to make,” Daud answers him while at the same time asking himself how in the Void he’s supposed to put the whole mess around the witches into words.

To his surprise, Corvo holds up a hand, signaling him to fall silent, and then wrings his fingers in a way that on any other person Daud would describe as shy.

Daud cocks his head to the side. “Are you alright?”

Corvo avoids his gaze, but he signs _I also have a request. If you don’t want to you can say no, I wouldn’t mind._

Daud’s mouth goes dry and he hurries to suppress the surge of heated, desperate, pathetic hope that rises inside him, because Corvo cannot possibly want _that_ of him, and Daud clenches his jaw as he chides himself to not get caught up in his own stupid, treacherous thoughts.

As neutrally as possible, he answers: “Please, ask. What do you need help with, Attano? Pesky noble bastards again? Need some tips in swordsmanship?”

Corvo briefly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Daud has to clench his fists to stop them from trembling, and finally Corvo signs.

 _The_ _ball night will take place very soon. I’m not good at dancing. Would you practice with me?_

Oh.

A mess of contradicting thoughts is swirling through Daud’s head, the most prominent one the immediate question whether Corvo is out of his mind, or drunk. It’s a very unexpected and surprisingly straightforward thing of him to ask. But after all, it’s been Corvo who had initiated most advances between them before, and his soulmate has that infuriating habit of surprising Daud over and over again, the damn bastard.

A different, smaller part of Daud is disappointed, because he had hoped for… something else.

Corvo seems to take his stunned silence the wrong way, because he crosses his arms in front of his chest and lifts one eyebrow, as if challenging Daud to mock him about it.

Daud hurries to offer him an apologetic smile. “No, I’m not making fun of you. It’s just… you grew up on Serkonos, didn’t you? And you move so graceful and elegant with a blade while fighting that you should make a terrific dancer. Also, it can’t be the first time you have to attend a ball. You’ve had your position as Protector for how long now? Twenty years?”

Corvo looks ashamed. He seems to turn his next words over in his head for a while before he speaks.

_I always avoided it, and Jessamine respected my reluctance. I mostly stood on the side. Emily insists that I partake._

Daud hums thoughtfully. That doesn’t really sound convincing, but after all he’s seen Corvo’s horrible attempts at practicing alone.

But that’s not what’s making him hesitate. It’s the prospect of having Corvo in his arms, pressed close while feeling the flex of his muscles under the cloth, his face just inches from Daud’s away. The mere thought is causing Daud to feel like there’s a fire burning low in his stomach, chasing those infuriating flutters down his spine, and a raging, consuming feeling of _wrongness_. He can barely handle sleeping next to Corvo without feeling like he’s enjoying something he shouldn’t enjoy, and dancing is such a… well, _romantic_ thing to do that Daud _knows_ it’s going to hurt, seeing his own failure staring back at him when he looks at Corvo’s scars, his lips, his eyes. Also, he had come to Corvo to tell him about his investigations on the leftover Brigmore Witches, not to dance with him.

He wants it so much, though.

“If you think you need help,” Daud hears himself say, and Corvo nods and smiles thankfully.

“Take off your coat,” Daud orders, shrugging off his own dark red coat to place it on a nearby chair. Corvo does as he asks and waits for Daud in the center of the room, dressed in elegant boots, black trousers and a simple linen shirt.

Daud joins him and takes the basic position, one hand pressed to his back and holding out the other, as if asking a lady for a dance. Corvo mimics the stance, causing Daud to huff out a laugh.

“Oh no, Corvo. I’m taking the lead. You’ll do the… well, the female part for now,” he says, not quite able to keep the teasing sound from his voice.

 _But I’m taller than you_ , Corvo signs with a slight frown.

“Barely an inch. And you’re the one to learn it, not me,” Daud comes back, now grinning wickedly, despite himself.

Corvo, slightly taller than Daud, but less bulky in build, narrows his eyes as if thinking about a snarky comeback. He stares Daud down for a while, who waits for his reaction with an expectant, sneering grin on his lips. Daud eventually makes an elegant little bow, extending his hand again with a flick of his wrist.

“ _Lady_ Attano, may I ask for this dance?” he asks teasingly.

Corvo’s eyes widen for a moment and Daud is half expecting him to draw his crossbow and punish him for this, but Corvo… does not.

Corvo grins, slowly, and after briefly showing Daud his middle finger Corvo places a hand on his hip in a very ladylike pose and accepts Daud’s outstretched hand with a movement that looks like a bad parody of a snobbish duchess, a mockingly flirty smile on his lips.

He allows himself to be pulled close, and Daud explains the steps to him. They start with something slow and simple, a traditional Tyvian waltz. Corvo learns surprisingly quickly, taking into account how badly he had done just minutes before, moving as swiftly and elegantly as Daud would have expected him to. One of Corvo’s hands is resting on Daud’s shoulder and Daud’s arm is looped around his waist, guiding them both as they dance through Corvo’s quarters to an imaginative rhythm only the two of them can hear. Not long after, Daud decides to show Corvo something faster, a Serkonan dance with a more fluid pace that involves some elegant turns, and every time Daud pulls Corvo close again after letting him do a little spin, Corvo chuckles softly, and Daud’s heart thumps too fast for his liking.

Corvo does so well that Daud decides to offer him to switch positions soon after.

“Want to have a try taking the lead, bodyguard?” Daud rasps with a smile that ends up somewhere between mocking and flirty.

That earns him another raised middle finger, but the way Corvo smiles at him takes any sting from the gesture. Corvo happily complies, as if he’s only been waiting to take the lead. He does it with astonishing aplomb, and Daud starts to wonder if it’s actually the first time he ever danced. His thoughts melt away when Corvo pulls him close vigorously after an elegant spin, an almost suggestive smirk on his face, one hand slipped under Daud’s and the other resting firmly on the small of Daud’s back. It’s… perfect.

Corvo is enjoying it too, it seems, and when Daud takes the lead again to show him a Morlish dance, slow and pressed close to the other man, Corvo all but melts against him. Daud fails miserably to stop himself from turning his head a little, just a fraction, far enough so that he can inhale the scent of Corvo’s hair, warm and earthy and familiar. Almost, but not quite unconsciously he pulls him tightly against his chest, and the hand on Corvo’s back starts rubbing small circles while they sway through the room.

When Corvo lets out a wistful, shaky exhale, pressing even closer, Daud’s mind is set ablaze with that punishing, burning feeling of guilt and hurt again, the feeling that he doesn’t deserve to be so close and intimate with his soulmate, not after breaking his life to pieces. Daud unwillingly remembers the wonderful moment when he was massaging Corvo’s head, the expression on his face, the rush of longing that went through Daud upon hearing Corvo’s soft, content groan, reminded of how he stopped himself from enjoying it for too long, anxious to take pleasure from something he doesn’t deserve.

That raging, pained voice in the back of Daud’s mind is all but yelling at him to stop, to stop enjoying his closeness to Corvo too much, his gentle warmth, the flex of his muscles under his palm pressed to the small of his back, to stop before it can turn poisonous.

But this time…

 _Fuck it_ , Daud thinks stubbornly, and rests his head against Corvo’s, gripping his hand tighter and feeling Corvo respond to it in the same way.

Daud allows himself to cast all painful thoughts aside to just enjoy being this close to Corvo, swaying gently to the imaginative rhythm that comes so surprisingly easily to them. He leans closer into him, encouraging Corvo to rest his weight against his body while he guides him.

This is probably the reason why after an indefinite, blurry amount of time, the two of them stop dancing without really noticing, and just stand in the middle of Corvo’s quarters, holding each other close, hands roaming slowly, leisurely over the other’s back. Corvo has turned his face into the curve of Daud’s neck and just breathes as if there’s no other place in the world he’d rather be, his exhales hot on Daud’s skin. Daud moves up one hand to dig his fingers into Corvo’s hair, gently massaging his scalp, already knowing that it is something Corvo really enjoys. Daud is rewarded by another breathy groan of pleasure from Corvo, the sound alone enough to force Daud to stifle a groan at the wave of tingles that runs down his spine.

“You do realize that should anyone decide to come in here now and sees us like this, we’d have to kill them?” Daud whispers into the silky mess of Corvo’s hair, mostly to stop himself from any involuntary noises escaping him.

Corvo chuckles softly, and pulls back enough to lift his hands to sign.

_Don’t worry, I’d cover your back. You can trust me._

_Trust_ , a tap of his temple with his index finger and then firmly clasping both hands in front of his chest. Daud smiles. “I know.”

Corvo huffs and glances away, smiling as well. He looks up again when Daud’s hand gently cups his cheek, his whiskey-brown, beautiful eyes shining with something Daud can’t name.

“I know I can trust you,” he adds, his husky voice merely a whisper, leaning closer to Corvo until their noses almost touch.

The smile on Corvo’s lips turns lopsided, and it trembles around the edges. Something dark flickers in his eyes for a second, and he looks away, frowning. His body suddenly feels tense in Daud’s firm embrace.

“Corvo… Is anything wrong?” Daud wants to know, hesitantly taking his arms away. He feels like nothing could pry them from Corvo’s lean, warm frame, but if Corvo shows any signs of discomfort he’s ready to let him go immediately.

Corvo sighs, and reluctantly moves his hands, as if forming the words with gestures causes him pain.

_I lied to you._

Daud lifts his eyebrows in disbelief. He must have misunderstood, thinks about the last gesture again, the combined fingers of Corvo’s left hand passing across his lips, but he’s sure that it means _lying_. What in the Void is he talking about? “What… Explain yourself, Corvo.”

Corvo sighs again, raking a hand through his hair before he continues. _I know very well how to dance. I’ve learned it in my youth and danced at court a hundred times. I saw you through the wall when you came here and only acted like I couldn’t dance because I…_

Corvo hesitates, hands hovering mid-sentence. He avoids Daud’s unbelieving stare, then finishes with _I really wanted to dance with you since we won’t be able to dance together during the ball night. And it was very nice. I’m so sorry about making it up._

Daud closes his mouth again after realizing that he had opened it. He slowly shakes his head while he’s trying to arrange his swirling thoughts in a way that allows him to form a reply, preferably one that does not insult Corvo, or makes him sound mocking, or gives away just how deeply touched Daud is by Corvo’s admission.

He carefully approaches Corvo. “Outsider’s eyes, why didn’t you just ask me for a dance?”

Corvo huffs and tilts his head. _And you would have said yes?_

“ _Fuck_ yes, of course I would. I should have known. You learned way too fast and move way too confidently for a beginner. I enjoyed it too.” Daud hesitates shortly, but then he places his hands on Corvo’s shoulders and gently moves them along his collarbones until he’s cupping his jaw. Corvo’s gaze has softened visibly, and his lips form a careful smile.

_I’m sorry. At first I wanted to pull through with this, but… I want to be honest with you. Are you angry?_

Daud snorts out a laugh. “No. No, I’m not angry. If you were any other person I’d tell you what a pathetic, needy little wimp you are for inventing such a cheap pretense. But you are my soulmate, and so in fact I think it’s cute.”

Corvo grunts and gives Daud’s shoulder a hefty punch, an indignant frown on his face that fails to cover up the smirk that tugs at Corvo’s lips.

“What was that for, bodyguard, huh? For calling you a wimp, or calling you cute?” Daud asks with a teasing grin, catching Corvo’s wrist as the man makes to punch him again.

 _Both_ , Corvo signs with his free hand.

“I’m afraid one of those things is true. Decide for yourself which one,” Daud growls, husky voice low, and catches Corvo’s other wrist too, pulling him close until they stand chest to chest, faces inches apart.

Corvo’s eyes widen for a second when his chest bumps against Daud’s, but a second later they glaze over, pupils wide and dark. He smiles softly and places his chin on Daud’s shoulder again, and when Daud lets go of his wrists Corvo’s arms immediately loop around his waist, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his shoulder blades.

“Thank you for being honest with me, Corvo,” Daud all but purrs against Corvo’s ear, because he can sense that Corvo needs the affirmation. He feels Corvo nod, pressing closer. “Pathetic bastard.”

That earns Daud an emphatic kick against his shin, but he takes it without complaint. Dancing with Corvo had felt way too good to regret shedding his self-restraint for a moment, allowing himself to indulge in the intimacy with his soulmate without feeling like he’s slowly being torn apart from inside from his feelings of guilt. Daud can’t afford to become careless, though, can’t afford to ever forget about the unforgivable misery standing between them, and then he thinks back to Corvo’s promise to be honest with him. Daud wants to be completely honest with Corvo too, wants him to be able trust Daud in every regard, and he knows he’ll have to come clear about the damned witches soon.

“Corvo, my men stumbled over something, lately. You need to hear about it,” he says, unwilling to break the embrace but determined to see this through.

Corvo pulls back, suddenly an excited expression on his face. His hands lift from where they were roaming over Daud’s back, leaving empty, cold spots on Daud’s body.

_I also found something strange you should have a look at. I have it right here. Come._

Daud frowns and follows Corvo over to his littered desk. The man is skimming through stacks of papers and books, turning them carelessly over until he produces a small wooden box, about as long as his hand.

Corvo carefully opens the lid, the little wrinkle between his elegant brows deeper than before, and his eyes shine with worry and determination alike when he reaches into the box and shows Daud its contents.

Daud willingly has to stop himself from gasping when he sees what Corvo is holding.

It’s a wooden dart with thistle seed fletching, the liquid inside glowing softly pink in the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dancing scene in this chapter is dedicated to Aeniala. I hope you liked it, my dear!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely optional, but you might want to take an occasional look at a map of Dunwall while reading this. Enjoy!

**XI.**

Corvo always had the suspicion that the strange pink darts were something dangerous, but he hadn’t expected them to be _that_ dangerous.

Jenkins hurries to shoot a bolt into the base of the arm-long vine that cringes and jerks in his direction as if it’s trying to grab him. Before it can reach him though, the bolt hits it and the aggressive plant turns brown and shriveled, lying slack on the table.

Jenkins turns around, and if Corvo had to guess he’d say Jenkins looks proud behind his industrial mask. It must have taken him quite an amount of effort to find out how to use the pink darts without getting himself killed. Corvo had been tempted to simply load the dart he found into his own crossbow and shoot it somewhere to see what happens, and now he is thankful that his deeply rooted survival instinct had prevented him from doing so.

He hurries to close his mouth again after witnessing the vine turning a dead pigeon into a mess of blood and feathers and straight after that attempting to kill Jenkins, and settles for a stern, serious frown. He turns to Daud, who is standing next to him, and signs.

“Lord Attano says it’s incredibly valuable to know what they do and how they work. He’s very thankful for your efforts, Jenkins,” Daud translates.

“Thanks, Master. I mean, Lord Attano,” Jenkins says, making a nervous little bow in Corvo’s direction. Corvo offers him a nod.

Daud turns away from the laboratory table and signals Corvo to follow him.

“So, what do you think? Nasty stuff, aren’t they?” Daud wants to know, gazing at him over his shoulder.

_Definitely dangerous. Whoever made them needs to be stopped as soon as possible._

“I agree, Corvo. And we will. That’s why we’re here.”

They keep moving towards the room the meeting with Daud’s Whalers is supposed to take place in, something Daud had arranged immediately after Corvo had shown him the pink dart yesterday. Daud hasn’t told Corvo much about his own findings about the strange darts yet, and instead insisted on openly exchanging everything they found out together with his men, discussing how to proceed. Corvo had agreed to that, since he shares Daud’s feeling that only with joined forces can they uncover this new, infuriatingly mysterious threat. The last thing Corvo wants is to include the Tower guards or the Watch in this, and, as much as he hates to admit, alone he lacks the sheer manpower that Daud’s Whalers provide.

Corvo is partly worried to see his suspicions about the strange darts being a danger confirmed, and partly oddly excited and… _proud_ that Daud had insisted to inaugurate him in the Spymaster’s secret investigations, offering for them to work as a team. As partners. It’s not something Corvo ever liked to do, being a one-man army by definition of his occupation as Lord Protector, and since the latest catastrophe he has trouble trusting anyone with so much as putting a sugar cube in his tea. But Daud is another matter, and working together with him and his men is something different entirely, Corvo feels, surprisingly so.

It’s the first time Corvo visits the old bank building that the Whalers have turned into their base of operation, and he must admit he’s quite impressed. He had learned that Daud has a hand for keeping a well-working, loyal team together even in the middle of chaos, disease and destruction when he had been in the Flooded District, and as worn down as the place had been, the Whalers were without a doubt the best organized gang in Dunwall during the time of the crisis.

This is a major improvement, though.

Daud leads Corvo up a staircase through a room that looks like an obstacle course. He stops briefly to exchange some words about the progress of the newest recruits with a Serkonan-looking man that is apparently named Rulfio. Strangely enough, the name rings a bell somewhere in Corvo’s memory, and when he squints at the black-haired, dusky man Rulfio turns to Corvo and flinches visibly upon seeing the man that had escaped their prison and infiltrated their well-guarded base like a ghost back then. Maybe Rulfio is one of the Whalers Corvo had choked out and left behind on a pile of rubble, he is not sure.

Still, Corvo offers the man a polite nod. Daud is his soulmate and these are his trusted men and women, and he will try to fit in as good as he can to avoid any animosities between them.

Rulfio’s gaze briefly snaps over to Daud, and the two seem to talk only with their eyes for a moment. Rulfio lowers his gaze obediently and offers Corvo a nod himself, bowing a little deeper than Corvo did. “Welcome, Lord Attano.”

Corvo smiles and signs to Daud. Daud laughs huskily and shakes his head, and Rulfio looks confused.

“What did he say?”

“Lord Attano asked whether he choked you out when he escaped from our cell in Rudshore. If so he wants me to tell you he’s sorry.”

That causes Rulfio to smirk at Corvo, and he visibly relaxes a little. The hand he had placed on the hilt of his sword drops. “No, bodyg… I mean, Lord Protector. No harm done.”

Corvo offers him a slightly bowed head and follows Daud as he bids Rulfio farewell. Daud transverses up on the next level, Corvo trailing close behind. They pass a library, a busy kitchen and what looks like an archive room stuffed with shelves heaving under the weight of loads of books and papers. Daud’s archive probably contains enough dirty secrets to turn every political figure in Dunwall into an obedient little lap dog. Daud and his men have been incredibly efficient.

When Corvo muses about the close connection between Daud and his Whalers, he suddenly realizes that he doesn’t know if Daud had kept their soulmate bond hidden so far, and how he prefers the matter to be handled.

 _Do any of the men know about our bond?_ Corvo asks Daud after touching his shoulder, immediately causing him to stop and turn around to see if Corvo wants to say anything with his hands.

Daud hesitates, but only for a moment. “Thomas, my second in command, does. I told him in order to convince him that including you in our investigations wouldn’t be so much of a shitty idea as one would assume without knowing. He’s instructed not to lie to my men should they ask about us, but he also won’t make a big deal out of it or tell it around,” Daud says eventually. “I hope that’s alright with you.”

Corvo nods. _Of course._ He considers Daud’s hesitation for a moment, before he gestures again. _You do know that I wouldn’t mind people knowing?_

“I know, Corvo.” With that, Daud places a gloved hand on Corvo’s shoulder and squeezes it briefly, something in his scarred face opening up as if he wants to say more. He doesn’t do so, and Corvo is not sure what it could have been. Daud offers him a thankful smile, though, but not the mocking, leering kind, lopsided and speaking of poorly concealed danger, like the grin of a wolf. It’s the other kind, the kind of smile that Corvo is sure very few people have ever seen on Daud, gentle and always a bit insecure as if smiling like that makes him feel vulnerable, the flint in his steel gray eyes soft and warm, crinkling at the corners.

Sometimes Corvo has that ridiculous hope he’s the only one to ever see that smile on Daud.

They continue their way through the Whalers’ headquarter and reach a large room formerly used as lobby that now serves as a place for discussing strategies, it seems. The walls are littered with pinned maps, newspapers and posters, Daud’s usual way of organizing documents.

A dozen Whalers are waiting for them, sitting on the window sills or standing, most of them chatting idly. When they notice Corvo enter behind Daud, they fall silent immediately.

Corvo is acutely aware of the sudden tension hovering in the air, and he can well imagine why. After all, he’s the person that snuck through the Whalers’ defenses with apparently little effort, dumping some of them sleeping tightly in some dirty corner, and left them leaderless for a long time. As fiercely loyal as they are to Daud, Corvo can understand they hold a grudge against him.

The feeling’s mutual. The sight of a man in a whaler mask grabbing Emily like a piece of cargo and disappearing with her is still sitting deeply.

“Take off your masks, all of you,” Daud orders gruffly in a tone that allows no backtalk. The Whalers do as he asked, and Corvo warily scans their faces appearing under the identical masks. Three of them are female, he notices, and they seem to originate from all corners of the Isles, at least judging from their appearance.

“You already know Corvo Attano, the Lord Protector. As you were instructed by Thomas I have decided to include him in our investigations concerning the darts. The matter is a threat we still know way too little about, and we need his help. It might affect the safety of the Empress herself, and we’ll discuss our strategy with him,” Daud says, meeting each and every one’s gaze as he speaks. Then he turns to Corvo, and the shine in his storm-gray eyes encourages Corvo to say something to them.

Corvo clenches his jaw, slightly uncomfortable among all those wary faces scrutinizing him with a mixture of guilt, accusation and grudging respect. Finally, he lifts his hands, aware of Daud standing next to him, mostly to be able to translate his gestures, but Corvo can feel Daud also keeps close to give him comfort. Corvo catches himself longing to shuffle closer to Daud, being able to touch his hand or shoulder while they stand side by side, but he knows he can’t, not now, not so openly. Knowing Daud is there still soothes Corvo, and the tense line of his shoulders drops a little.

“Lord Attano asks who of you took care of the Empress lately,” Daud translates and then nods to two of the Whalers. “Kieron and Montgomery, that would be you.”

A rather grumpy looking man with a crooked nose and shaggy, red hair and a woman in her late thirties with eyes as harsh and cold as the ones of a Tyvian crabfisher step forward. Corvo signs to them, registering Daud’s expression softening in the corner of his field of vision.

“Erm… Lord Attano wants to thank you. Apparently her Highness told him she liked playing with you a lot. And Kieron, you really need to work on your hiding skills. Playing hide-and-seek with you was too easy, according to the Empress,” Daud translates, and Corvo can see by the way the corners of his lips twitch upwards that he’s trying to hide a fond smirk.

“That’s because I am too good compared to Kieron. But you can tell her Highness she’s damn right, Attano,” Montgomery says, a lopsided grin crinkling the corners of her bright eyes.

“Fuck you, Montgomery,” Kieron snarls. To Corvo, he says: “It’s alright, Lord Attano. It wasn’t _that_ annoying.”

“Oh please, you were the one insisting on letting her ride piggyback most of the time,” Montgomery sneers, and the look Kieron shoots her could freeze a bonfire.

A couple of Whalers chime in, giving Kieron friendly nudges or making jokes or simply stand there and smirk, causing a lot of the tension in the air to melt away. Corvo suddenly has the feeling he’s witnessing members of a family teasing each other, a ragtaggle band of brothers and sisters, bound tightly together not by blood, but by their common loyalty for Daud.

Corvo feels he’s smiling, despite himself.

“Enough, you two. Let’s get back to work,” Daud barks, and the Whalers stand at attention immediately. Satisfied, Daud continues. “Yesterday Lord Attano showed me something he found during a City Watch investigation close to Draper’s Ward. It turned out to be a pink dart, the same type we’ve already dealt with.”

There is a surprised murmur erupting from the Whalers. Corvo moves his hands and forms a question, and Daud answers it directly.

“Yes, we do know who made them, and what they do. But their concrete purpose eludes us still, or where the makers are hiding now.” His soulmate seems to hesitate a moment as if reluctant to talk about that topic any further. When one of the two other women steps forward, Daud signals her to speak.

“Name’s Misha, Lord Attano. Sir, has Jenkins already shown you what they do?”

Corvo nods. The Whaler named Misha continues. “Those vines resulting from the pink substance can grow about as long as three men. Also, they can easily kill if one gets too close to the thorns, we’ve already seen what they are capable of.”

Corvo asks how the plants can be handled and again, Daud answers the question directly without translating. “They can be killed by shooting bolts at the base, even though the larger ones require fire rather than simple bolts. Also, cutting the base will cause them to wilt quickly. If one manages to come close enough without getting stabbed, that is,” he explains.

Corvo nods again, thinking.

_Who made them?_

Daud hesitates a moment, something dark flickering up in his eyes as if Corvo unintentionally had awoken some painful memory in him, but then he speaks.

“The makers of the darts are some leftover members of a group called the Brigmore Witches. We’ve already had trouble with them a while ago, during the plague. Their leader was a witch named Delilah, and she was marked by the Outsider, like we both are. She is dead now.”

Corvo frowns. _Delilah_ … That name rings a bell somewhere in his head, but his mind is way too occupied to focus on that now, concentrating on all the new information he just learned. So those people who call themselves witches are still around, creating dangerous weapons as if they’re up to planning a lethal assault, even with their leader dead. That doesn’t make much sense.

He voices his concerns to Daud and again, the man seems reluctant to answer, but he translates Corvo’s words.

“As far as we understand, Delilah had a deep hatred of the Dunwall monarchy and nobility, and her sisters shared that sentiment. We have all reason to suspect that her leftover followers are planning to revenge Delilah’s failed plans by attacking the Tower, probably even the Empress herself,” he explains eventually.

Corvo lifts his eyebrows and tries to quell the sudden surge of panic rising up inside him at the mention of Emily. He needs to stay professional and neutral now, to remember as much as he can. Only that way will he be able to help Daud the way his soulmate hopes he can. Keeping up a neutral façade, he asks Daud if he knows more about the witches’ motives.

Daud tells him about the hidden laboratory underground close to Kaldwin’s Bridge, assisted by his Whalers that chime in here and there to add details. He listens carefully while they report to him about the other darts they found, the witch they questioned and her answers. When they tell him that the witch killed herself to protect the letter the Whalers found by swallowing it and drinking some of the vine-birthing pink liquid, getting ripped apart by the vines in her stomach, Corvo signals Daud to wait, an unbelieving frown on his face.

_She committed suicide to protect their plans?_

Daud shrugs. “We already know that they are fanatic enough to die for their cause. When I broke into Coldridge a while ago I found the remains of another witch. She was about to get interrogated by the Watch and back then these ladies still possessed magical powers. She tore half the interrogation chamber apart with some kind of explosion that killed several guards along with her.”

_You’ve broken into Coldrige? Why?_

Daud hesitates and waves a hand dismissively. “Long story. I needed a favor from somebody. Your spectacular escape before didn’t make getting in and out any easier, besides.”

Corvo blinks at him dumbfounded. If what Daud had seen in Coldridge is true, those witches do seem to be much more determined than he thought, then. He’s already witnessed a lot of attempted assaults on the royal family during his career, but most of them were less than helpless and only a few of them actual threats. The Brigmore Witches seem to be very eager though, worryingly so.

_For how long have you been working on this already?_

“We’ve first discovered the darts about three or four months ago, in a sewer halfway between Draper’s Ward and the Estate District,” Daud says. “There was a hidden stash of them.”

Corvo’s mind is racing. He suddenly has an idea, and hurries to form his thoughts into words with his hands, hoping that Daud understands the hasty succession of gestures. Daud frowns in concentration, but Corvo is thankful when he makes it.

“Lord Attano just pointed out that he discovered his dart around Draper’s Ward, and we discovered our first darts between Draper’s Ward and the Estate District, and the laboratory for creating more darts we found is in the Estate District itself…” Here, Daud breaks off, realization dawning on his face as he understands Corvo’s conclusion.

“ _Fuck_.” Daud turns towards his men, some of them having equally worried expressions on their faces. “They are moving their area of operation closer to the Tower.”

A shocked silence falls on the assembled people. Eventually, the man Corvo knows as Thomas speaks up.

“But Sir, Lord Attano discovered his dart only recently,” he points out.

Corov huffs a protesting grunt and hurries to sign.

“The place under the textile mill in Draper’s Ward was worn-down and apparently given up long ago, and he found the dart only by using his magic. It might have been there for a long time,” Daud translates. He turns to Corvo. “Lord Attano, I’ve already seen the witches in the sewers under the textile mill long ago, and I strongly suspect they had a base of operation there before moving their leftover forces closer to the Tower.”

 _If that is true, they seem to leave their old hideouts every time they move closer to their target_ , Corvo signs.

“If they have given up their latest laboratory in the Estate District, it is only logical to assume that they have set up camp even closer to the Tower now,” Daud adds after translating Corvo’s words, and the cold knot in Corvo’s stomach clenches even tighter. He doesn’t like where this is going, and if it wasn’t for his soulmate’s help he’d be incoherent with worry.

Thomas speaks up again. “We already detected suspicious movement around the Tower, sentries watching the area, but so far we weren’t able to catch them. It’s as if they have a hiding place around here, but that doesn’t seem likely. All the buildings in this area are occupied, most of them have been in the hands of noble families for generations, and a coven of witches moving in would surely rouse attention quickly.”

It’s strange, Corvo has to admit too. _Are they still able to use magic?_

“We suppose that they are not,” a young Whaler with a brown ponytail says. “The witch we caught didn’t use any, neither to defend herself nor to flee. If the principle of the arcane bond applies for Delilah’s former followers as well, like for us, they lose their abilities as soon as their leader disappears.”

Corvo nods, understanding. He knows of Daud’s shared abilities, and it makes sense that if Delilah is dead, her coven needs to rely on other resources for an assault. Aggressive vines stuffed in arrows are kind of an unconventional choice, though, and Corvo is sure Delilah can’t have been that much of a nice or _sane_ person if her followers see fit to create something like this to avenge her.

“So, what do we do?” the female Whaler named Montgomery asks.

“We already knew the witches used to be active around Draper’s Ward, and now Lord Attano found out that they used that place to create some of the darts, at least for a time. I will go there myself and take a closer look. I’ve already been to the textile mill and know the area,” Daud declares. “Lord Attano will come with me and show me where he found the dart.”

With those words, Daud shoots Corvo a careful glance, as if giving him the chance to object if he wants to, as if asking for permission. Corvo takes a deep breath as he lets his words sink in, turning the meaning of it over in his head. Only the two of them, on a mission Corvo would normally insist to tackle alone. Corvo had always been reluctant to team up with anybody, no matter who it was, not trusting anyone enough, but Daud…

Corvo nods, and the faint shadow of a thankful, gentle smile flickers over Daud’s face before his eyes turn hard as steel again. He turns back to his Whalers, pacing slightly as he gives them their orders.

“Kieron and Montgomery, you’ll be watching the Empress during our absence. She already knows you and you did well the last time,” Daud decides, and Kieron groans in obviously faked annoyance. Some of the Whalers snicker and nudge him while Montgomery looks pleased with her task. Daud continues.

“Like we already elaborated, the Brigmore Witches seem to be watching the Tower, and Outsider be damned if they don’t have a hideout somewhere here right under our noses. I want rotating patrols in random patterns. Watch every corner of the area, and if you find anyone observe where they are going. If they see you, capture them and bring them here, but, and this should be obvious, don’t get seen, is that clear? Don’t kill, but let them know you could if they try anything funny. Yes, Anthony?”

One of the Whalers had raised his hand, and, surprisingly, addresses Corvo directly.

“Lord Attano, excuse me if I’m rude, but we need to know… You won’t make this a matter of the Watch, right?” Anthony asks carefully.

The question catches Corvo off guard, but before he can answer he notices the angry glare Daud shoots the man, and Anthony visibly shrinks in on himself. Corvo wonders if the Whalers had actually been worried that Corvo would involve the City Watch in their investigations, something he never intended to do at any point. If they thought Corvo would take this case form them and hand it over to the Watch, stopping them from handling matters in their way, was that the reason why Daud had been so reluctant to speak about the witches and this Delilah? Was it the same reason why Daud had told Corvo so recently about it, months into their research?

Did Daud not trust him? But Daud had told him that he did, while they were dancing, and it had felt so _genuine_. Had he lied to him?

Pushing his dark thoughts aside, Corvo hurries to answer.

_Of course not. We would have the Overseers on our heels as soon as the word witch is mentioned, and we don’t need that. I’ll handle this case with discretion._

Daud translates and the Whalers visibly relax. Apparently they share Corvo’s general mistrust towards most governmental authorities, even though they are, technically, one themselves, but it’s something Corvo can relate to, and it makes the prospect of working together with them a lot more promising.

Also, he admires how much Daud and his Whalers seem be able to rely on each other.

After assigning a number of names to each of the present Whalers, who are apparently experienced men that act as leaders of the patrol groups, Daud dismisses them and signals Corvo to follow him, leading him back to the Tower.

 _When are we going to start our mission?_ Corvo asks.

Daud hums thoughtfully. “The ball night celebrating the months of songs is in three days… Let’s start tomorrow afternoon. The Watch will be busy escorting noble guests from the harbor to the Tower and we’ll have Draper’s Ward all for ourselves.”

His last words are delivered with a smirk that looks almost suggestively flirty, something Corvo would normally have taken as a chance to tease Daud or make a joking comeback, but now the smile Corvo returns is skewed and insecure.

The Whaler’s question pops up in his mind again, the worried tone of the man when he asked Corvo whether he would take control from their hands now that he’s working with them. Is that truly what the Whalers were afraid of, that their leader’s decision to include Corvo in their work was a mistake? What pains Corvo even more is Daud’s strange reluctance to tell him about the witches and this Delilah, and that he held back the information for so long. What was wrong with him? Did Daud not trust Corvo enough to tell him? Was he hiding something from him?

Corvo thinks about their dance again, yesterday evening. He had done so for the entire time, how _good_ it had felt to share this moment with Daud. It had been a very spontaneous impulse, an experiment to see what it feels like and what’s going on in his treacherous mind while he indulges in… something like _this_. Corvo was almost shocked about himself when he was asking Daud for a dance, even more so paired with his silly excuse of wanting to practice he had invented to not appear too… _flirty_. Corvo had regretted that shortly after, and he’s glad Daud was amused enough to not be angry about it. Dancing with Daud, especially that romantic Morlish dance, is something Corvo had not expected himself to be willing to do, but he had just… he had wanted to know how it felt, being so close to Daud in that way, and the harmony between them, the easily found rhythm, had unsettled Corvo to the core.

He had liked it, and he’s not sure he likes just _how much_ he had liked it.

Corvo had, as it seemed to happen often in the presence of his soulmate, caught himself willing to give up his cast-iron need to be in control of everything for just a moment, a need that had always been deeply rooted inside him, but even more so since all the terrible things that had happened to him. It had been incredibly hard not to fall into a maddened frenzy and simply kill everybody within reach while Corvo had been used by the false loyalists to do their dirty work. He had managed, something that surprises himself, to keep his blade free from any bloodstains, not willing to sully Jessamine’s honor by shedding blood in her name, but Corvo’s trust in humanity had still been beaten to pieces.

Corvo is not entirely sure what he feels for his soulmate, but he knows that it comes much closer to genuine _trust_ than he had felt for any other person for most of his life, and that feeling is tinged with a desperate, confusing hope for Daud to be _that_ one, that one person able to give Corvo security, closeness and reassurance, and… Maybe even more than that. Strangely enough with all that seemingly stands between them, Corvo feels he could let it all go in favor of giving his entire trust to Daud, maybe even forgiveness, one day, when he is sure about what exactly he feels, he knows he could.

Deep inside Corvo knows there is a reason for them to be soulmates, he just needs to figure it out.

The thought that Daud might be mistrusting Corvo in any way is causing him incredible pain.

Corvo doesn’t even know whether he can ask Daud about it, since during their discussion with the Whalers Daud seemed not only reluctant to address the topic of Delilah, but also it looked like Daud had instructed his men to avoid telling Corvo too much. The topic is incredibly important, so it doesn’t make any sense that Corvo learns of it just now, months into Daud’s investigations, unless…

Unless Daud had willingly decided to hide his former connection to this strange Delilah from Corvo. But why? Daud could tell Corvo _anything_ , so why does he keep this from him? Does he not trust him enough?

Frowning to himself Corvo follows Daud back to the Tower, lost in thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update is coming a little sooner, and will be a little longer. Also, Floating Whale Douche returns.


	12. Chapter 12

**XII.**

When they leave for their mission the next day, Daud can’t get rid of the feeling that something is wrong with Corvo. Daud had actually looked forward to the upcoming teamwork with his soulmate, now that they are able to communicate much better. With Daud’s advances in sign language Corvo doesn’t have to rely on paper and acting too much. Also, Daud enjoys being alone with Corvo much more than he should.

Corvo seems to be sulking about something, though.

Daud asks him about it, once, before they leave, but all he gets is a vague smile and a dismissively waved hand, and that’s it. Daud can sense that Corvo doesn’t want to talk about it, so he lets him be instead of pressuring him and focuses on their task at hand.

It’s a cold, windy afternoon and a layer of early evening mist is rising above the Wrenhaven, glowing brightly in the sunlight. Daud and Corvo meet at the foot of the waterlock close to the Tower, since Corvo had claimed he knows a faster way to reach their location than by transversing and blinking from rooftop to rooftop.

His faster way turns out to be an elderly boatman with shaggy brown clothing and bushy gray sideburns, his weathered face open and friendly.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Draper’s Ward?”

Corvo smiles, shakes the boatman’s hand and introduces him as Samuel Beechworth. Daud briefly greets him back, relieved that Samuel doesn’t seem to recognize Daud, and if he does he doesn’t let it show. Daud climbs into the small boat behind Corvo. He remembers Samuel from Corvo’s stories, he was the man that used to act as a ferry during the time of the Rat Plague, shipping Corvo to his targets. He also remembers Corvo telling him that Samuel was the only one that stood his ground against those turncoat loyalists and tried to get Corvo out of their reach alive. If it wasn’t for him, Corvo would most likely be dead, and Daud and his soulmate would never have met.

With newfound respect, Daud regards the elderly boatman again. If Corvo’s and Daud’s relationship wasn’t such an utter clusterfuck and way too complicated to explain, he’d love to thank Samuel for what he had done.

But Daud doesn’t, and settles for watching Samuel exchange some friendly smalltalk with Corvo. The man seems to be familiar with Corvo’s deficiency and only asks questions Corvo can answer with simple gestures, and then he chats a bit about the pub he apparently runs down at the Hound Pits, and that it goes well.

They fall into a companionable silence, and Daud is thankful for the gentle, humble friendliness Samuel radiates, not forcing them to talk. Corvo stares out into the open water, still apparently lost in thought, and Daud decides to ask him about his somber mood later.

He has his own dark thoughts to mull over in his mind, after all.

It eats at Daud that he hasn’t found out what the witch they caught in the underground laboratory meant when she spoke of Lady Ashes. The Outsider was adamant that Daud had heard the name before, and if there’s something that Daud hates more than mysteries it’s when the damn answer to a mystery is right under his nose and he still can’t find a solution.

The boat ride goes smoothly and without incidents, and soon they reach the harbor area close to Draper’s Ward. It’s the same place Lizzy Stride’s _Undine_ used to lay at anchor, and Daud briefly looks for the sturdy, oldfashioned ship. He spots it a distance away, wedged between two wooden landing stages. He nudges Corvo’s shoulder and points.

“See the ship there? The Captain’s the girl that I broke out of Coldridge, the gang leader of the Dead Eels,” he says, mostly to see how Corvo reacts, if he’s interested in talking or if he prefers silence.

Corvo cranes his neck to see, but a second after a dark haze flickers back over his eyes, and he turns away to sign goodbye to Samuel, and with a blue swirl he is gone.

Daud frowns and blinks in confusion, but then he sighs and turns to Samuel.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem, Mister Spymaster, Sir. Always a pleasure to chat with an old friend like Corvo. And I might have just met you, but when Corvo trusts you, you have my best wishes,” Samuel says, and his eyes radiate such an unshakable honesty that Daud feels like a piece of dirt for a moment.

He nods to Samuel and quickly summons his powers to transverse after Corvo, who has taken position on a broken roof nearby the quay area.

 _Lead the way_ , Corvo signs, an expression like a rock on his face. Again, Daud asks himself what is causing his soulmate to be so damn distant. He acknowledges wryly that he had hoped their mission together would actually, despite the general urgency of the whole matter, be enjoyable. So much for that, then.

Daud transverses to a dirty backyard and opens the door to Draper’s Ward. With the general upward course Dunwall has taken since Emily’s reign, repairs are in full progress, making the district look a touch more like the fancy, expensive boulevard it used to be before the plague turned it into a worn-down battlefield. A lot of the stores have reopened and the bloody wars between the local gangs have stopped, mostly due to Corvo’s efforts with the City Watch. Daud leads Corvo to the market hall that he had had to cross to reach the textile mill back then while trying not to get spotted by the Hatters. Now, the area is vacant save for the shopkeepers visible in his Void Gaze, and the door to the mill is unlocked.

When they reach the textile mill, Daud motions Corvo over to the roof of a small maintenance hut that allows them to overlook the area.

“There we are. What kind of investigations have you already conducted with the City Watch in here?” Daud wants to know.

To his utter shock, Corvo’s brow furrows in anger, and he shoots him an accusing glare. His hands move, jerky and hasty, and Daud has trouble following the gestures.

_I was not trying to give your men’s work over to the watch, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t know you had business in this area._

Daud lifts his hands. “Whoa, calm down. Outsider’s eyes, I just… I was just asking what places you’ve already looked over. To prevent us from wasting our time triple-searching any spots,” he hurries to say. What in the Void has gotten into Corvo?

His soulmate’s outburst is over as quickly as it had started, and he signs, slower this time, but avoiding his gaze.

_A local gang, the Hatters, was causing trouble to the inhabitants when the surrounding buildings were repaired and survivors moved in. Captain Curnow asked me to join in since there were strange sounds coming from the sewers, most of them caused by river krust colonies. I came here several times, but only the last time did I discover the dart._

Daud is not entirely sure about all of the words, but he thinks he gets the general meaning of Corvo’s speech. It’s more than strange, because most of the time, his soulmate pays great attention to forming his signs carefully and slow enough for Daud to understand. Never before has Corvo acted like this, as if he’s angry with Daud.

“Alright, Corvo, what’s wrong?”

Corvo’s eyes meet Daud’s, the soft hazel brown dark and piercing, and with a grunt he shakes his head and blinks down to where the sewer starts.

Daud curses in frustration, but follows suit to the door leading below the mill. If Corvo doesn’t want to talk about it, what is he supposed to do? Daud has little to no experience with people he has something like a relationship with behaving strangely, because he’s never had something like a relationship with anybody before. It’s making him feel helpless, and that pisses him off.

Frowning, he follows Corvo through the door into the murky, greenish wetness of the sewer. The first thing that greets them is the burbling hiss of a river krust spitting acid at them from a distance, and Daud quickly ducks to the side, readying his wristbow. He summons his magic to stop time as soon as he hears the next hiss, a sign that the damn mollusk has opened again so he can shoot it right in the centre, but before he can do so three pistol shots echo in the tunnel, the reflected noise loud enough to make his hears ring.

Daud turns around and sees Corvo march brusquely onward, the barrel of his pistol still smoking. The nest of river krusts is destroyed, the shells strewn all over the place. Corvo steps carelessly over the carcasses further into the tunnel, not caring to wait for Daud. Daud curses and transverses after him, almost jogging to keep up with Corvo’s stride.

“Damn, can’t you be a little more subtle? I thought that was your specialty.”

Corvo shows no reaction whatsoever. Daud clenches his jaw and ignores the cold hand that clamps down around his heart as he follows him through the tunnels. Daud actually recognizes large parts from his search for the _Undine_ ’s engine coil, and the worn down, sodden place stinks just as badly as he remembers. They move through knee-high water and over bits of debris and tubes, crossing the large gaps between the walkways rimming the sewer canals, and finally Corvo stops.

They are standing in a large, murky hall with something resembling a pedestal in the middle, similar in build to the cave in which Daud and his Whalers had discovered the laboratory with the vines. The pipes and tubes under the ceiling drip muddy water into the puddles on the floor, and to the right Daud can see a large hatch with a wheel to operate it. He vaguely recognizes the place. The textile mill’s water reservoir is close by, just a few tunnels further, and the dead mechanic’s quarters as well. The circular hall with the pedestal in the middle must be where some of the Brigmore Witches had tried to ambush Daud, one of them pathetically acting like a mother looking for a lost child. Daud had not fallen for the trap back then and simply ignored the witches, sneaking by them unseen.

He does remember the damn statue in the room above of the side tunnels, though, and the sudden tightness in his chest makes it hard to breathe when Corvo chooses just that tunnel to go through.

Reluctantly, Daud follows him. The narrow tunnel offers hardly enough space for them to crouch side by side, and if it wasn’t for the entire situation with Corvo’s strange bad mood and the fact that they are standing in a fucking sewer, Daud would enjoy being wedged this close to Corvo in the tunnel, but as it stands, he can’t. Corvo points to the end of the small tunnel, illuminated by shafts of light that fall down from the room above it. When Daud moves closer he can see a broken box, the wood soaked and discolored from lying in the dirty water for apparently a long time.

“Is this where you found the dart?”

Corvo nods, and signs _Under the box, as if it had been forgotten._

“It probably was. Let’s search the area and see if we can find any hints to what the witches did while they were here.”

Corvo nods his assent and they split up, combing the surrounding area. While Daud frequently renews his Void Gaze to pick up any striking objects around him, the question why Corvo is so fucking distant is almost drowning out his constant pondering about where he had heard the name Lady Ashes. Was it when he broke into Brimore Mansion, did he read it in one of Delilah’s books…?

Why in the Void would Corvo refuse to talk to him about his problems? They had grown so very close over the past months and this sudden retreat of his is eating Daud up from inside more than anything else he can think of. As if he hasn’t enough dark thoughts circling in his mind in the first place.

Daud shakes his head and grits his teeth, looking for clues. His grumbling impatience is rewarded by a floorboard that suddenly gives way under his weight, and he drops a level lower through the rotten walkway he’d been on. Luckily he manages to stop time with his Transversal to pick a safe landing spot instead of taking a bath in the pond of brackish water, cursing wildly as he lands on a chunk of debris.

The room he dropped into is… interesting.

“Corvo? I think I found something.”

When Corvo’s head appears within the hole Daud’s involuntary fall had created in the walkway above, his eyebrows rise and he hurries to blink down beside his soulmate.

They are standing in a makeshift dormitory, slightly illuminated by the dim light shining through the cracks and holes in the ceiling, and it looks like a grotesque parody of a noble lady’s bedroom. There are about two dozen beds, the formerly beautifully patterned sheets and drapes tattered and stained, and small tables with cracked teapots and porcelain flower vases, the bouquets in them so long wilted that some flowers have turned to dust. Some of them carry expensive glass bowls filled with the remains of food that has rotten long ago. Tapestries cover the sewer walls in a desperate attempt to make the place look like the inside of a noble mansion, even a chandelier hangs haphazardly from a pipe on the ceiling. A little distance further into the makeshift dormitory are flower pots, and when Daud carefully comes closer his suspicions become confirmed immediately.

There are vines in the flower pots, the kind that erupts from the pink darts. They are dead, brown and lifeless, but Daud can tell by the large thorns that they are just the kind he had already seen.

He jerks his head towards the flower pots to get Corvo’s attention.

“Here’s our proof that the witches used to live here. These are the same kind of vines we found in their more recent laboratory in the Estate District.”

Corvo cocks his head. _They look much smaller. A prototype, maybe?_

His last sentence is completed with the help of his notepad which he uses for long words that have no fitting gesture. Daud agrees.

“I think so too. It seems to have taken the witches quite a while to improve the darts to the level we’ve seen,” he says. “So apparently, this was one of their first lairs in Dunwall’s city area, after they gave up Brigmore Manor. Maybe even the first, who knows where else they set up camp before.”

_What about Brigmore Manor?_

“There’s nothing left of the coven in the manor, I assure you. My men swept the place a dozen times over a longer period, before I became Spymaster and after. No witches, just a bunch of smugglers and refugees. The witches moved to the city to do whatever they plan to do.”

Corvo grunts and takes a thorough look at the room around them. Daud also starts combing through the dormitory with hands and Void Gaze, looking for anything useful. When he bends down on his knees to peek under a bed that’s slightly larger than the others, his effort is rewarded by a small rectangular shape lying under the dirty mattress, halfway hidden under wet straw. Daud uses his Tethering to pull the object towards him. It turns out to be a book, small and leather-bound, green in color, and when he flicks through the wet pages it looks like a collection of poems. Daud grunts, slightly frustrated. He had hoped for a diary or a notebook or something equally personal that would potentially contain some useful information, but this is just something to read in one’s spare time. He pockets the book anyway and turns around to see what Corvo is doing.

Corvo pokes around the room as well. It’s hard to judge what’s going on in his mind, but he looks like he’s assessing the potential danger of a bunch of crazy women breeding deadly vines in a sewer under the city, just like Daud has been doing for months now, except that he _knows_ how unpredictable the Brigmore Witches are. As if Corvo had read Daud’s thoughts, he asks: _I’m trying to understand their actions._ _Why here? Why the vines?_

Daud shrugs. “Why do young women enter the service of a completely insane witch in the first place? Now that you mention it, their former headquarter, the Brigmore Manor, used to look disturbingly similar. You know, worn-down furniture that belongs in noble mansions, expensive rugs and silken pillows, bowls of food within a house that reeks of decay and death. It’s all make-believe. They are pretending that the world is alright like Delilah promised them it would be if they follow her, as if all of them are living in a perfect, beautiful palace and not in a fucking ruin. Seems to me they kept doing the same thing after their Mistress died.”

Corvo frowns, thinking. He signals Daud to follow him, and leaves the dormitory again. The man blinks up back to the large hall and slips into the tunnel he found the pink dart in, and Daud’s heart sinks to his boots when Corvo climbs up into the grime-stained chamber above the narrow tunnel.

Daud remembers picking up a bonecharm from the bottom of the tunnel during his search for that damned engine coil. As soon as he had stashed the charm away in a pocket, he had heard voices from above, the careful, devoted tone of a young woman and the imperious, arrogant speech of Delilah. Daud had eavesdropped on a witch kneeling in front of a statue of Delilah, receiving orders. The marble statue is still there, but the little Outsider shrine next to it wasn’t there the last time, and Daud assumes the witches have built it in Delilah’s honor next to her statue.

The last thing Daud needs right now is having to see Delilah’s obnoxious, narcissistic face again, not even speaking of his reluctance to talk about the conflict between them, which is exactly what he’d love to prevent from happening. He grudgingly watches Corvo approach the statue, and the man points at it before signing _Is that Delilah?_

Daud sighs. That fucking topic is going to follow him to his grave. “Yes.”

Corvo looks at her as if trying to remember where he had seen her before, but apparently he fails to do so. Frowning, he lifts his hands again and signs _How did Delilah rally her followers around her?_

“Magic, I presume. The promise of shared power. I kind of did the same, only I had slightly different intentions, and I didn’t turn my men into brain-washed lunatics. At some point, the first sister must have answered her call, and with one loyal enough fanatic by your side others follow quickly,” Daud answers.

He takes another look at the Outsider Shrine, pressing his left hand to his side unconsciously as his mark starts to prickle. Daud feels a hard shape in one of his pockets and remembers the book he found under one of the beds. Absentmindedly, he pulls it out and opens the first page, right behind the cover.

Daud’s brow furrows as he notices the letters in the upper right corner of the page, handwritten with red ink, as if someone had signed their name there to mark the book as theirs. Daud steps closer to the whale oil lamps of the shrine to read the name.

And suddenly, everything fits together.

The name in the book is _Breanna_ _Ashworth_.

Daud curses wildly and approaches Corvo excitedly, grabbing his arms.

“Lady Ashes is Lady Breanna Ashworth! I finally remember, Corvo! It’s her that’s behind all this, she’s planning to revenge Delilah!”

Completely dumbstruck, Corvo shoves Daud back to make some space to lift his hands.

_What are you talking about?_

Daud takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. The realization has struck him as soon as he had read the name, suddenly evoking a memory. Now that he finally has found the solution to that damn riddle, he can put the pieces together.

“The witch we interrogated in the laboratory revealed that a certain _Lady Ashes_ was behind their plans of revenge, and I was sure I had heard the name before. I remember now. When I was in Brigmore, I overheard two witches talking. Lady Breanna Ashworth was the first witch to enter Delilah’s service, and that must be the Lady Ashes the other witch spoke about. This book I found belongs to her, see? She was Delilah’s most fervent follower. Her Mistress’ death seems to have driven her even madder than before, and now she wants to end what Delilah started. She’s behind all this,” Daud explains.

He doesn’t search Corvo’s face for signs of approval, or waits for his input since Daud is so caught up in his train of thought and instead turns to the small Outsider shrine, looking for more traces. From the corner of his eye he can see Corvo staring at him darkly, but for the moment Daud is about to solve a mystery, mind racing as he thinks about the puzzle.

 _Everything_ makes sense now. Breanna Ashworth wants to continue her Mistress’ plan and finish what Delilah couldn’t do. Daud doubts Breanna plans to possess Emily since she lacks magical powers, but apparently she and her leftover witches are mad enough to rid the world of the new Empress, the source of anger and jealousy their beloved Mistress had hated so much, driving Dunwall into chaos. If Delilah can’t rule it, nobody else should. It’s insane, and breeding deadly vines to accomplish that seems more like a misguided tribute to Delilah’s fancy for roses and thistles than any other rationally set up assault plan, but considering how crazy those women already were when their leader had been alive Daud trusts them to turn even more loony when Delilah died. Killing the crown Delilah hated so much by commanding powerful deadly plants and letting Emily die in an embrace of vines and thorns and briars must seem absolutely fitting for their standards.

The most important question now is where the witches operate and why in the Void none of Daud’s men were able to catch them, as if they have a secret hideout close to the Tower, but that can’t be. The noble inhabitants, always keeping a keen eye on the immaculateness of their neighborhood, would have noticed a coven of insane witches setting up camp in one of the long reoccupied mansions of the Estate District, and who would agree to give them shelter voluntarily? It’s frustrating, but now that Daud finally has remembered what that damned witch meant with Lady Ashes, he’s more confident than before that together with Corvo he can stop them.

Daud’s thoughts are interrupted suddenly when he hears a furious grunt behind him and stumbles forward when someone painfully shoves his shoulder. He spins around and freezes in shock when he sees that it’s Corvo who had assaulted him.

His soulmate’s eyes are dark with anger, every muscle in his body tense and breathing heavily as if forcing himself not to draw his sword, and for a terrible moment he looks just like the masked felon coming to take revenge on Daud.

“Corvo… What the fuck is wrong with you?” he manages to rasp, not trusting his eyes as he struggles to understand. Seeing Corvo like this _hurts_ , it hurts so badly Daud’s stomach feels like it’s filled with ice, and a white-hot searing pain settles itself in his chest.

Corvo holds up both hands and signals Daud to be quiet, tense and slightly shivering with suppressed anger. Daud just nods eagerly, lips forming a tight line, desperately trying not to upset Corvo any further. Corvo signs, hands moving jerky and hastily, but pronounced enough for Daud to understand, and by the Outsider the man looks like he’d love to _scream_ at Daud instead of gesturing.

_You are hiding something from me. Why? Why are you lying? Do you not trust me? Have I done anything wrong?_

Daud struggles for words, completely overwhelmed by Corvo’s accusations. “Corvo… I don’t understand…”

Corvo growls hoarsely between clenched teeth and points at Delilah’s statue. _There is something going on with Delilah and you, something very important, and you are refusing to tell me! Why? I thought I could trust you!_

Now Corvo looks like he can’t decide whether he wants to scream or to cry, breathing hard and agony twisting his features. He signs again, slower, as if it causes him pain: _I thought I could trust you._

Daud just blinks at him and desperately struggles to arrange his thoughts to explain himself. He finally understands what had caused Corvo to be so distant and irritated all day, it’s Delilah and Daud’s past with her, and with the bits of information Corvo has about them right now he must be incredibly confused. Of course Daud had never intended to hide anything from Corvo, or lie to him, or hurt him like this, but he knows that he has fucked up, again.

Daud opens his mouth to speak, but before he can do so the stale air around them suddenly turns purple, thick with the smell of seaweed and brine and the sound of whalesong, distant and echoing.

When the Outsider floats out of the cloud of blackness over the shrine and hovers in the air in front of the two of them, Daud groans in frustration.

“Oh no, not _you_. This couldn’t be any more untimely,” Daud snarls.

The Whale God brushes that off with a smug little smile, his black gaze switching between Daud and Corvo, who looks equally as pissed as Daud does.

“My dear Daud, I disagree. I have chosen the _perfect_ moment to meet the two of you. My marked ones, connected by more than just the design on the back of your hands, isn’t that so?”

The Outsider doesn’t wait for them to answer and instead immediately turns to Corvo. “And you, dear Corvo, have finally discovered that Daud has things in his past he didn’t tell you about. Does that hurt? Does it remind you of the many times you were betrayed, and that now, when you finally dared to believe that you found the one person you could truly trust? How _disappointing_ that must be.”

“I didn’t hide anything from him!” Daud hisses at the Outsider. Turning to Corvo, he adds: “Corvo, please, you have to believe me. It’s true I didn’t tell you everything about my past with Delilah, but I never had the intention to hide anything from you!”

Corvo huffs and signals for him to stop, but before he can sign the Outsider speaks up again, apparently enjoying himself thoroughly.

“Daud, it’s time to tell him about Delilah, don’t you think? But will it be enough to heal the wound you just struck, among all the other ones? Will Corvo believe you when you tell him why you kept this from him?”

“For fuck’s sake, _shut up_!” Daud yells, his frustration turning into fury, fanned by that damned bastard’s smug grin, and Corvo’s dark glare, and the anger about himself and that he had managed to hurt his soulmate again. He doesn’t want to yell, but it’s too much, the pain and the regret and _everything_ , and Daud can’t stop it. “Shut up, both of you!”

Daud turns to Corvo, forcing himself to level his voice, but it doesn’t work, the pain is too much, and he probably sounds like he’s on the brink of crying, but he doesn’t care, the words just tumble out of his mouth.

“When I killed Jessamine I was incoherent with regret, alright? I _hated_ myself for what I did, I hated every damn second of my damn life, and then _that_ fucker came and gave me Delilah’s name and said I could make up for what I did. So I tracked down Delilah and found out that she wanted to possess Emily, and I killed Delilah and prevented her from harming Emily. And I don’t know why I didn’t tell you, okay? I have no fucking idea! Maybe it was because my life had turned into a complete clusterfuck when I learned that I fucked up the life of my own soulmate, and what should I have said in your opinion, huh? ‘Hey Corvo, I know I ruined your life and took everything you held dear from you, but you know what? There was an insane witch who tried to use Emily as a puppet and rule the Empire, and I know you’ve never seen that witch but you gotta believe me that I totally saved your daughter, so please forgive me and don’t hate me as much as you deservedly do?’”

Daud stops out of necessity for air, gasping for breath and so very close to completely losing his composure. He stares at Corvo, helpless, sees his soulmate stare back at him with unbelieving astonishment in his eyes.

“And finally the truth has come to light,” the Outsider comments blithely, but neither of the men pay him any mind any more.

Corvo slowly shakes his head and blinks as if waking up from a stupor, and his hands move, his eyes never leaving Daud’s.

_Delilah tried to possess Emily?_

Daud nods, raking his hand through his hair. “She was completely mad with her obsession to rule Dunwall. Her mark allowed her to manipulate people through the paintings she made of them, and I found out she planned to slip into Emily’s mind to control her like a puppet. I killed Delilah before she could do so, and destroyed the painting she made of Emily. Delilah won’t harm your daughter ever again, but her fanatics are still around, and they are furious.”

Corvo nods slowly, something flickering back to life in his eyes, and the tremble running through him makes Daud want to hold him and never let go.

_You saved Emily’s life?_

Daud doesn’t trust his voice, so he simply nods. From the corner of his eye he sees the Outsider’s gaze flicking back and forth between the two of them, an excited grin on his face as if he’s a spectator watching a gripping theatre play.

Corvo blinks and signs again, as if he has trouble coping with Daud’s previous gush of words.

_Why have you never told me?_

Daud helplessly shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he manages to rasp, voice thick. “I had the feeling it wouldn’t have changed anything. It isn’t enough to make up for what I did, nothing ever will be. I thought you’d hate me regardless.”

All the anger had vanished from Corvo’s face, replaced by a wounded, stricken expression.

_I don’t hate you. I never did._

Daud wants to squeeze his eyes shut, wants to block out what Corvo says with his hands, but he can’t, he can’t ignore his soulmate’s only way to communicate, and so he keeps staring at Corvo, struggling for composure.

“Stop it Corvo, please. I don’t… You don’t deserve a soulmate like me. I disappointed you again,” he chokes out, voice barely a whisper.

_I’m glad that you are my soulmate. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I mistrusted you._

Now Daud closes his eyes, doesn’t want to see the gestures, doesn’t want to hear _that_ from Corvo, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t. Corvo, gentle, honorable Corvo, is the last person in the world that owes Daud an apology, and Daud refuses to listen, because it’s just utterly _wrong_. Daud is a complete catastrophe, a disappointment from start to finish, and even by admitting the only helpful thing he’s ever done for Corvo Daud had managed to hurt him, and he will not listen to Corvo apologize to _him_.

Something soft presses against his chest, and then shaking arms embrace him as Corvo envelops him with his gentle heat. Daud resist the urge to shove him away, his insides boiling with pain and regret and more _pain_.

“Not in front of _him_ ,” is all he manages to rasp, briefly jerking his head towards the Outsider.

“ _Yes_ in front of him!” the Outsider chants, an expression on his face as if he just won the lottery. He cocks his head and watches the two men hold each other close, and when Daud finally returns Corvo’s embrace the Whale God folds his arms in front of his chest and grins wickedly.

If the situation was any different, Daud would be completely furious seeing that smug expression on the black-eyed bastard’s face, but Corvo is shaking in his arms and his ragged breaths are warming his neck, and that melts away all the anger Daud had felt during his outburst. What’s left is a desperate, consuming _thankfulness_ , and Daud feels like a heavy weight that had been pressing down on his heart is gone, and the blood flows back into it, and it _hurts_.

“Corvo…” Daud whispers against his soulmate’s soft hair, and as if Corvo rather wants to continue holding Daud close than lifting his hands to speak he just exhales, breath hot on Daud’s skin, and something that almost sounds like a soft sob escapes Corvo’s throat. Daud pushes back a little to look into Corvo’s face while at the same time pressing him as close as physically possible. Corvo’s lips tremble around the edges and his eyes are slightly watery, and he blinks rapidly a few times.

 _Thank you_ , he mouths, and Daud knows Corvo’s thanking Daud for both, for saving Emily and for letting him know that Daud is not holding Corvo’s earlier outburst against him, and even if Daud doesn’t quite feel that he deserves Corvo’s thankfulness, he’s so relieved that his soulmate is no longer angry with him that he can barely handle it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you, it was just… I don’t know. I was so fucking confused about our bond and everything,” Daud says quietly. He takes a deep breath. “I trust you, Corvo, and you can trust me. I swear I’ll never do anything that’ll harm you in any way, or Emily. You have my word.”

Corvo stares back in his eyes, soft brown meeting storm gray, and… _something_ lights up in Corvo’s gaze, and the silence between them brims with so many unspoken things it’s almost suffocating. Daud’s gaze flicks to Corvo’s lips, and he realizes with something almost resembling surprise that he wants to _kiss_ him. Daud has wanted to do so for a very, very long time if he is very honest with himself, but now, as his gaze snaps back and forth between those beautiful, sad eyes and Corvo’s elegantly curved lips, Daud wants to cover them with his own so much it _hurts_.

But the Outsider still watches them with an expression as if he’s placing bets in his head on who closes the distance between them first, and Daud will _not_ kiss Corvo while that bastard stares at them with his smug grin.

As if he could ever muster the courage to kiss Corvo in the first place without his guilt tearing him to pieces. Or could he?

Considering the circumstances, Daud decides the show is over despite his deep wish to hold Corvo close for as long as possible, and withdraws a little from him. Corvo seems to share the sentiment, since he immediately turns to the Outsider and shoots him a disapproving glare.

“I found out about Breanna Ashworth,” Daud says to the Outsider, mostly to distract himself from the torrent of desire heating up his core.

“I know. Well done. Don’t expect any more hints from me, though. You are close to solving the mystery, and seeing you two cooperate is simply fascinating considering your… connection. If you will solve it is another matter, though. So many possibilities. So many endings, interwoven and entwined… Whatever the outcome, I’ll be watching with great interest.”

And with that, a shadow envelops the Outsider like a cloud of ink, drawing him from the world.

Corvo and Daud stand next to each other in front of the shrine, and for a long moment neither of them speaks.

After a while Corvo lifts his hands and Daud turns his head a little to see his gestures.

_You saved my daughter._

Daud stares at his feet. “I suppose I did.”

He can see Corvo staring at him from the corner of his eye, and his questioning gaze morphs into something understanding. Instead of signing Corvo nods, as if it’s impossible for him to put his feelings into words, and the deep sincerity of the gesture is more than enough to let Daud know _how much_ Daud’s admission means to Corvo. After a long moment during which Daud has trouble swallowing, Corvo lifts his hands, looking bashful.

_I’m very sorry I was so angry. And for shoving you. I’ve become a little paranoid over time. I should have known you didn’t mean it badly, that I can trust you fully._

Daud grins and huffs out a laugh. “A _little_ paranoid? That’s the understatement of the decade, bodyguard. And it’s probably for the best, considering. But when it comes to me, you don’t have to be. No more secrets. I promise.”

Corvo smiles, and Daud’s heart beats faster. Daud suddenly remembers something with a painful little sting, and decides to tell Corvo, now that they’re at the topic of honesty.

“Speaking of which… Remember the portrait of Burrows in my office?”

Corvo nods. _The one with all the bolts in it?_

Daud takes a deep breath. “That was Emily. I’m teaching her to shoot the wristbow. It was her idea, and by the Void she loves it.”

With wide eyes, Corvo blinks at him. A rapid succession of emotions dances across his features, angrily furrowed brows and a confused frown, and finally settles for a lopsided smirk.

_So that’s why you two sometimes act so conspiratorial?_

Daud can’t stop himself from smiling. “I guess.”

_The shots are all so precise I assumed it was your doing._

Daud cocks his head. “Yes, well, she’s got talent, you know. You should consider teaching Emily more than that. I know, it’s kind of dangerous, but I always took great care that she didn’t shoot herself, or me, and the girl really has a knack for aiming. Do you want me to stop teaching her?”

Corvo seems to mull the thought of his daughter shooting a wristbow over, before he signs again. _She’d be very disappointed, wouldn’t she?_

“Pretty much,” Daud confirms.

Corvo’s lips stretch into a slow smile. _No, keep it up. Teach her well._

“With her talent she’ll be able to hit a rat’s eye in the dark soon, I promise.”

Corvo’s disbelieving expression slowly morphs into a wide smile, and then he’s laughing. It’s so good to hear his soft, hoarse chuckle that it plasters a stupid wistful smirk in Daud’s face, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Let’s get back home, we’re done here. I’ll bring my men the news,” Daud says. “You’ll get the results of their latest patrols this evening.”

And then there’s Corvo’s infuriating knowing smirk following Daud’s implied invitation for a sleepover, and Corvo nods his assent. He trails after Daud when his soulmate turns to leave, and together they traverse the murky, dripping hall again to enter the sewers. Before they slip into the muddy tunnel, Daud feels something touch his left hand, and when he turns around he sees it’s Corvo that stopped him by grabbing his hand.

Daud’s gaze meets Corvo’s. The man’s whiskey brown eyes are soft and dark, not from anger any more, but from… something else, gentle and warm.

 _Thank you_ , Corvo mouths again, and in his eyes Daud can see that he means it.

A part of Daud wants to protest, say that it’s the least he could do and that it still isn’t enough. But he doesn’t, and instead smiles and dips his head a little, and then they continue to transverse their way through the tunnel, and Corvo doesn’t let go of Daud’s hand once until they are back at the Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so fucking excited for Dishonored 2 coming out on november 11th (and for Corvo's sexy mask from the Collector's Edition standing in my shelf, cough...)! 
> 
> I promise, though, that I'll keep working on this fic and I try my best to keep up my usual schedule. I hope that you won't forget these two lovely dorks and stop by to read about their adventures. Have a wonderful time in Karnaca and enjoy the game, Outsider knows we've been waiting long enough!


	13. Chapter 13

**XIII.**

Daud stands next to the billowing curtain of blue silk, a glass of expensive whiskey clutched tightly in his hand, and fights the urge to sink his blade into Lord Pyne’s eye for the umpteenth time.

He watches Gilderoy Pyne brag about his useless son Hendric in front of Captain Curnow of the City Watch, who looks like he’d very much like to be somewhere else, the poor man. It seems Lord Pyne is still trying to somehow weasel Hendric into the position of Lord Protector, replacing Corvo. Comparing Corvo to Hendric Pyne is like comparing a hawk to a lump of cheese, but back when Corvo had been in prison, apparently the elder Pyne had tried to put his son into the prestigious position. This project is so utterly hopeless and ridiculous Daud can’t believe Pyne still attempts it anyways, considering his former connection to the Lord Regent and the simple fact that his son is a spoiled idiot, but after all, the obnoxious noble is already well known to Daud for being full of unpleasant habits. Luckily, Daud’s visit to Pyne’s archive back then has supplied him with so many defamatory documents he’s well prepared for any audacities Pyne might come up with in court, and the man seems to be well aware of that, because so far he’d been unusually circumspect.

Daud takes another sip of the whiskey and lets his gaze wander over the crowds of guests.

The ball night to celebrate the middle of the month of songs is in full motion and it’s not quite as repulsive as Daud had imagined. The Kaldwins have never been the kind to act pretentious, especially compared to the other noble houses in Dunwall. When Daud scans the faces in the crowd, illuminated by the large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the reflection of hundreds of candles in glass and gilded statues, Daud knows that Emily definitely had a say in who to invite. Daud can’t only see the usual high society, but also scientists, some of Emily’s teachers, the keeper of a local toy shop, the Tower gardener and, surprisingly, that elderly boatman Samuel he had already met with Corvo, who is being questioned about sea monsters by Emily at the moment.

Still, even though Emily had obviously arranged the party not to boast the crown’s wealth but mostly to have fun while doing what she is obliged to do to keep in touch with political allies, _Corvo_ is there to make sure nobody attempts to hurt the Empress, and Daud can’t stop watching his every move while sipping absentmindedly at his whiskey, and he hates how much it makes his stomach flutter. At least Corvo hadn’t danced with any of the ladies who had asked him out so far, otherwise Daud is not sure he could maintain his self control.

Daud had had the pleasure of crashing a few of those noble parties during his career, but this is the first party since Daud had sworn to himself to change his ways, and he really wants to behave.

He still feels like a falcon trapped inside a pigeonry.

It becomes even harder to keep his blade where it is when Daud sees Hendric Pyne brusquely shoulder past Samuel. The young noble is wrinkling his nose and eyes the clean, but still rather scruffy looking boatman with a contemptuous sneer that most people would reserve for a dead rat. The younger Pyne, a blonde, rather stubby built youth with an absurdly large gilded sword studded with gemstones dangling awkwardly from his belt, marches over to his father. Daud can’t hear what they are talking about when they put their heads together to whisper urgently, but the way they are throwing glances left and right lets him know they are not talking about the weather.

Daud frowns and squints at the back of the elder Pyne when the man turns away, because something is stuck to the expensive velvet. It almost looks like a small, spiky blossom. Daud blinks, irritated for a moment, but when he takes a closer look at his surroundings, he notices the large flower bouquets decorating the hall, and also that a lot of the noble ladies wear complicated pinned-up hairstyles littered with fruit, flowers and other kinds of bits and bobs, so the blossom on Pyne’s back must result from one of those. Still, Daud can’t shake the feeling there is something even more wrong about these two than he already knows, but before he can get lost in brooding someone touches his shoulder.

“Have you tried the brandy, Master?” Thomas asks politely, suddenly standing next to him. He looks… unfamiliar without his uniform, instead dressed in the usual attire that is expected of the noble guests, and he looks quite elegant in the dark green vest he wears. Somehow he even managed to get his hair to behave.

“No, Thomas, but I have tried _not_ to grab a fork and ram it between Lord Pyne’s ribs,” Daud growls. “So far I’m doing well.”

Thomas smiles lopsidedly. “You should try the brandy. It’s exquisite. Also, it’s in the other room, where the Pynes are not.”

Daud shoots him a grin, knocks back the reminder of his whiskey and nods to Thomas to follow him. They weave their way between the other guests standing in small groups, elegant dresses and expensive cloth brushing their sleeves as they push through. The music playing in the background is only faintly noticeable over the general hum of laughter, talking and gossiping. The next room is dominated by a large table heaving under the weight of an impressive buffet, the centerpiece a large roasted blood ox, surrounded by countless other dishes. As expected, there is a vast assortment of beverages, and Daud fills two crystal tumblers with brandy.

“Not for me, Sir. Thanks,” Thomas says.

“They are both for me.”

“Oh. I’ll get myself some of that ox, then.” Thomas shoots him another smile and leaves Daud with his drink, watching guests.

When Corvo suddenly enters the room, Daud tenses up. He tries to keep his face as neutral as possible while watching his soulmate stride over to Emily. Corvo’s dark brown hair is normally a tangled mop partly covering his face, something that often causes him to blow strands away from his eyes in a stupidly adorable way, but today he has tied it into a short ponytail. Corvo is not wearing the worn, grayish blue Royal Protector coat he uses as his everyday uniform but a special, more elegant coat only for occasions like this, the fine dark blue fabric immaculate and contrasting beautifully with the golden embroideries, well-fitted gray pants and knee-high boots that bring forth his long legs and impressive height. He looks absolutely stunning, and Daud flinches violently when Corvo suddenly turns his head and catches him staring.

Corvo shoots him a genuine smile, discreetly enough that nobody else sees it, then makes a polite little bow when he accepts a cup of coffee from Emily who is kiting around him with a smile on her face. Corvo on the other hand looks tense and concentrated, casting wary glances around him since the ball night is less a celebration for him and more hard work, making sure always to keep an eye on Emily. Daud watches him carefully and notices that Corvo glances at the roasted blood ox in the middle of the buffet with something like a pained, longing look in his eyes, before he settles for a bowl of pudding.

Daud feels a pang of sympathy, suddenly reminded that Corvo is not only unable to speak due to his missing tongue, but also has trouble eating. Chewing solid food is very difficult for him, and when others are watching he prefers eating something he doesn’t have to chew much, like soups or food that is already cut finely. The only dishes on the buffet fulfilling those requirements are alcohol, coffee, fruit juice and pudding, though, and a bowl with what looks like eel soup, which Daud knows Corvo doesn’t like. Eating something of the blood ox is almost impossible for him, and he appears frustrated about that.

Already feeling a little too warmed up by the second glass of brandy, Daud mulls his thoughts over in his head, and, encouraged by the alcohol and the latest events, makes a decision. He sneaks around the table to the other side, grabs a plate and a sharp knife and carves off some of the blood ox meat, choosing the best looking bits and some of the crust. He carries the plate with the meat through the room, carefully making sure to look like he’s wandering around casually. When Daud passes by Gilderoy and Hendric Pyne, he overhears a scrap of conversation between them.

“But father, two of my seven training rooms are not usable at the moment!” Hendric Pyne whines in a fractious tone not even Emily, at least ten years younger than him, would stoop to use to get her will. “How am I supposed to keep up the level of my fighting skills?”

“Hendric, you don’t need fighting skills to convince the authorities you’ll make a magnificent Lord Protector. I mean, just look at Attano. Brute force counts more than high birth and sophistication under the Kaldwin’s rule, it seems, and it’s only a matter of time until they realize your value.”

“But father! You _promised_ you wouldn’t allow them to use my rooms for _that_ anymore, but they did it again!”

Lord Pyne sighs, something nervous crossing his pinched features. “You know how adamant they can be. Listen, I’ll just lay off some of the housemaids, then we’ll have free rooms.”

“ _No_! They may be pretty to look at, but they always make the place smell like…”

Hendric Pyne suddenly notices Daud watching them and stops talking immediately. He hurries to return Daud’s stare with something he must assume is a menacing glare, but which looks more like he’s having digestive problems. Lord Pyne turns around to see what caught his son’s attention, and when he spots Daud he flinches so hard he almost spills his drink.

Daud winks at him with a wicked, lopsided smirk, satisfied about the way it causes Lord Pyne to bristle with anger, and continues to carry his plate through the crowd. He decides to pester Lord Pyne and his spoiled son a little more later, simply because he loves to make them pay for every single negative word they say about Corvo, but for now he shoulders past the guard standing in front of the corridor that leads into one of the kitchens.

The noise of the ball is suddenly cut off, and Daud’s footsteps ring loudly on the stone tiles. He chooses the smallest kitchen in hope that it won’t be crowded with busy servants and is satisfied to find it empty but for one maid. Daud approaches her with what he hopes is a not too threatening expression.

“Good evening,” he says, but the maid flinches heavily nonetheless upon seeing him.

“Good evening, Mister Spymaster, Sir,” she stutters, making a nervous little curtsy. When she looks up again her gaze flicks over the long scar running down Daud’s face, and the sword on his belt, but then she spots the plate of meat in Daud’s hands, and her eyes go wide with worry.

“Oh, Sir, I hope there is nothing wrong with the blood ox? Is it not to your liking?”

Daud blinks. That is not the reaction Daud had expected, but he’s not sure what kind of reaction he had expected either, so he hurries to calm the maid. “No, it’s delicious. I was just wondering if… I mean, could you make this into a soup, please?”

The maid blinks at Daud, who feels the emboldening effect of the alcohol already wearing off. What in the Void is he doing here? How is he supposed to explain himself? Daud can hardly admit that he wants something to eat for Corvo that tastes like that blood ox his soulmate is not able to try, and Daud suddenly feels ridiculous about his spontaneous idea.

But there’s no turning back either. Inventing an excuse to leave now after already bringing forth his request would only seem even more ridiculous, so he decides to pull this through. “During my last sword training session I got a blow to the jaw, and my teeth hurt. So, would you mind simply turning this meat into something I can eat, a soup preferably? Small chunks I can manage.”

The maid blinks a few times, but then she pulls herself together and accepts the plate from Daud’s hands, offering him a polite smile.

“Of course, Sir. It won’t take long at all, I still have some veal stock left over that’ll bring out the taste of the ox nicely,” the maid says, apparently relieved that Daud asks her for something she can easily handle. He huffs a brief thanks and leans back against the kitchen counter to wait, fetching himself a Tyvian pear from a bowl nearby. The kitchen is pleasantly cool, quiet and dimly lit, and Daud relishes the possibility to rest his ears and eyes from the constant assault of sensory input from all sides in the ballroom.

His thoughts stray back to the evening when he and Corvo had returned from their mission in Draper’s Ward, where they searched and found clues about the damned witches. Daud’s men hadn’t been so lucky with their ongoing hunt for the current whereabouts of the coven, and when Daud had met with Corvo later that evening, it had only been a matter of minutes to tell Corvo about their results. Together they had decided not to tell Emily of Delilah’s horrifying attempt to possess her, since it would only unnecessarily worry the girl, but to let her in on the matter of the leftover Brigmore Witches as soon as they had more results.

Corvo and Daud had met to exchange strategic information, but after that had finished they had settled down in front of Corvo’s fireplace with a bottle of wine, talking. It amazes Daud how easily conversations between them flow by now, and even though he sometimes needs to ask Corvo to repeat a gesture or use his notepad, talking to him feels like… well, like _talking_ , and sometimes Daud catches himself unconsciously making the gesture for a certain word while he’s saying it, and Corvo laughs about Daud every time he does it, and every time Corvo’s eyes glitter with something fond and warm.

Daud casts a quick glance at the kitchen maid skittering back and forth between her cutting board and the steaming pot on the hearth, but she’s not looking in his direction. Not an hour had passed in the last days during which Daud hadn’t thought back on the night following their talk in front of the fire. It had been late, and Corvo had announced that he would go to bed, and Daud had asked him if Corvo would mind if he stayed for a sleepover. Considering that it’s usually Corvo who initiates such things, Daud always wary never to make a too bold move, Corvo had been surprised, but pleasantly so. Daud had already spent many nights with Corvo in one bed, nestled closely against each other, happily leeching the other’s body heat, but this time, something had felt _different_.

Maybe it was because Daud had asked if he could stay, shedding his usual iron self-restraint and pointedly ignoring that voice that told him he didn’t deserve Corvo’s closeness.

Maybe it was because only a few hours had passed since Daud had told Corvo about Delilah, and Emily’s rescue, finally, and the load that had taken from Daud’s heart, and because of the look in Corvo’s eyes when he had learned that his soulmate had saved his daughter even before they had met.

Maybe it was because of the argument they had had earlier, and their reconciliation.

Daud was not entirely sure, he just knew that this time, when he listened to Corvo’s breathing, the hand Corvo had placed on Daud’s side kept wandering slowly up and down the flank of his body, as if exploring the relief of his muscles. Corvo had often touched him before, but not like this, not so _sensually_. Instead of just placing a warm palm somewhere innocuous like they usually did, this time Corvo’s hand had _lingered_ , and Daud had struggled desperately to hide his quickly growing arousal. He prefered lying with his back to Corvo so treacherous body parts couldn’t become an issue, but when Corvo had pressed _very_ close for a moment to nuzzle his nose into the fine hair on the back of Daud’s neck, bodies pressed almost flush together, Daud could swear he had felt Corvo having just the same problem that Daud had. Corvo had flinched and quickly retreated a little, bringing some space between their hips, his suddenly tense hand leaving Daud’s side and his breath coming in nervous stutters. Daud hadn’t dared to move, utterly shocked, and had acted like he hadn’t noticed until Corvo’s breathing had slowed, indicating he had fallen asleep.

If Daud is not entirely mistaken or starting to get hallucinations caused by his unsatisfied pining, he’s sure Corvo had been just as aroused as he was.

Of course, Daud hadn’t been able to turn around to check, let alone muster the audacity to ask, but he is quite sure about it. What that means is something he barely dares to think about, and yet the thought had haunted him in every waking and sleeping moment since. Corvo enjoying lying close to his soulmate in an innocent, platonic way is one thing, Corvo tentatively caressing his soulmate’s side while having an erection is another. Daud had gotten the impression Corvo wasn’t even aware of it until he accidentally got in touch with Daud’s back, at least judging by the way he had flinched and retreated suddenly, as if catching himself feeling something he hadn’t expected himself to feel.

Maybe Corvo hadn’t wanted it to happen, and was even repelled by his body’s reaction. Corvo had always had relationships with women after all, in general, despite his claim that he’s open to having a platonic bond with a male soulmate. The way Corvo had suddenly withdrawn from him had planted a spark of hope as well as a consuming doubt inside Daud. Maybe Corvo had thought of another person while caressing the man in front of him, after all he hadn’t looked into Daud’s face while he did so.

And maybe, only maybe, Corvo feels the same way about Daud as he does for him, and the mere thought is enough to cause Daud to struggle for air.

He squints at the kitchen maid, but she’s not looking in his direction while she stirs the steaming pot brusquely, and Daud returns to his brooding, repeating a thought he had been repeating about a thousand times over the last days, like a silent prayer.

He should have kissed him.

Daud regrets not having kissed Corvo when they had held each other close, just after his admission about Delilah and Emily and his promise of trust. By Corvo’s reaction he would have known what his soulmate thinks about those… physical things. But by the Void, it had been absolutely impossible while the Outsider was watching them with that smug, knowing smirk. After the Outsider had vanished again, the moment had been over. Daud simply hadn’t been able to muster the courage after that moment had passed, and he regrets it so much the mere thought makes him clench his jaw painfully.

“Here, Mister Spymaster. I do hope you’ll enjoy the soup,” the maid says, startling Daud out of his brooding. She offers Daud a steaming bowl with arms outstretched as far as they allow, as if trying to feed a wolf. The bowl’s contents smell just as delicious as the blood ox on the buffet, and in the creamy soup swim small chunks of the meat among spices and herbs.

“Thank you,” Daud says sincerely and accepts the bowl carefully. He turns to leave the kitchen, and before he opens the door he pulls a small bag of coins from a pouch on his belt and tosses it over to the nearest table. “For your efforts.”

The maid skitters over to the bag, eyes wide when she feels its weight, and makes a hasty curtsy in Daud’s direction, a thankful smile on her face.

Daud carries his soup through the corridor towards the door, noise and light and cigar smoke wafting through, and ponders about how in the Void he is supposed to give this to Corvo without looking like a smitten idiot.

He knows it’s going to be pretty much impossible.

He finds Corvo in a corner close to the buffet. He has his arms crossed in front of his chest, leaning against a curtain, and watches Emily dance with Callista. Emily is obviously having fun, and the loving, tender look on Corvo’s face while he watches his daughter fool around, for once freed from the stern costume of an Empress she has to wear almost every day, makes Daud’s heart beat faster.

He moves the index finger of his left hand, and one corner of Corvo’s coat glows green and lifts, tugging gently, and Corvo notices the otherworldy touch immediately. His eyes find Daud, who hurries to inconspicuously jerk his head towards an empty, secluded corner to talk to him undisturbed.

“Having a stressful time, bodyguard?” Daud asks, trying to sound less nervous than he is.

Corvo grins. _Not so much. Emily is doing very well._

“She is. The blue jacket looks good on her. I remember her coming to my office to show it to me.”

Corvo nods, glancing at Emily once more with a fond smile, and then his eyes dart down to the bowl of soup Daud is clutching. Daud’s chest goes tight and he has to resist the temptation to just transverse away into safety.

_What’s that?_

“It’s… it’s for you,” Daud says, proud that he manages speech. He holds out the bowl to Corvo and Corvo accepts it carefully, taking the spoon and giving the soup an experimental stir, noticing the chunks of meat in it. One of his hands lifts while he balances the bowl carefully on the other, and Corvo’s brow furrows a little when he notices that he can’t gesture properly with only one hand.

“Oh… sorry,” Daud says and hurries to take the soup back to hold it for Corvo while he’s signing.

_That’s not from the buffet, is it?_

Daud hopes against all hope that the powerful flush that’s heating up his stomach is not showing on his face. “No, it’s not.”

Corvo nods, slowly, and bends forward a little to sniff at the steaming bowl. He then points at the blood ox in the middle of the buffet, lifting his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well… I noticed you were frustrated that you couldn’t try the blood ox, so… Here’s a soup made from blood ox meat,” Daud admits reluctantly, feeling incredibly awkward.

Corvo’s eyebrows rise even higher, and that damned knowing smirk stretches his lips.

_I’m not that frustrated that I can’t try the meat. I’m not able to taste that much._

Daud blinks at Corvo and feels incredibly stupid. Of course, Corvo lacks a proper sense of taste, and the soup that was supposed to taste like blood ox is not going to taste like anything to him. Daud had definitely not thought of that, and he curses himself inwardly.

“Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll just eat it myself…” Daud grunts and makes to turn away, feeling embarrassed, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. Corvo smiles at him, his eyes soft and dark, and lifts his hands to sign.

_Please, wait. Sorry, I didn’t want to appear unthankful_ , Corvo says. _I can still smell food, so that’s a little like tasting it. I’d very much like to try it._

Daud turns back to face Corvo, who reaches out to take the bowl from Daud. His warm palms brush over Daud’s gloved hands, and even though they both instinctively hurry to not touch hands for too long in case somebody decides to look in their direction, Daud relishes every second of the brief contact.

Corvo gives the soup another stir and carefully tries a spoonful. He rolls his eyes and makes a little moan of pleasure, and when he continues eating Daud can’t stop his lips from stretching into a stupidly content smile.

“And? Good?”

Corvo hums his approval and nods enthusiastically, mouth full. Then he swallows and places the spoon back in the bowl, holding it in one hand, and Daud furrows his brow when Corvo starts gesturing vaguely with the other hand.

“What…? Oh, of course,” Daud says when he understands and takes the bowl from Corvo to hold it for him while he signs. “Sorry Corvo, I keep forgetting you need your hands free when you talk.”

The hands Corvo had lifted drop a bit, and the gaze Corvo rests on Daud is so dark and deep that Daud finds himself breathless all of a sudden. When Corvo gestures again, he signs _You do that a lot. Only you, nobody else. You keep forgetting that I need my hands._

Daud struggles to breathe against the iron bands around his chest, staring down at the bowl he’s holding. “I know. Sorry.”

He startles when Corvo’s warm fingers touch his cheek, the contact so subtle it might as well never have happened, causing Daud to jerk his head back up.

Corvo smiles, and his eyes shine with something that sets Daud’s insides ablaze.

_Thank you for doing this. Thank you for forgetting, for talking to me like you do. As if I could still speak._

Daud couldn’t find words to reply to that if his life depended on it, so he settles for a quiet, sincere nod. Corvo’s gentle gaze morphs into something more playful, and he points at the soup.

_And you had this made just for me?_

“No,” Daud hurries to say reflexively, before he remembers their mutual promise of complete honesty that they had given each other lately, and, more quietly, adds: “Yes.”

Corvo chuckles, the damn bastard, a rare example of the sound of his lost voice, and shakes his head. The smile behind his soft laugh gives away that he is deeply touched, and he reaches out to take the soup from Daud again. He briefly jerks his head towards Emily, indicating that he feels he should look after her again.

“Alright, see you then. Enjoy your soup,” Daud says, shooting Corvo a wink before he makes to leave their secluded little corner. Corvo mouths another _Thank you_ at him before he starts looking for Emily, and Daud hurries to reach the buffet. He _really_ needs a drink now.

* * *

The nobles guests are being escorted back to wherever they care to spend the night, and watching the small armies of guards taking care of drunk, rich assholes meandering back to their mansions almost makes Daud miss the times in which he had the pleasure of crashing a few of parties like this.

It’s almost three at night, and the ball night slowly comes to an end. Corvo had left hours ago when Emily had started yawning every few seconds as she got too tired to stand upright, slumped against Corvo’s strong frame by her side. Callista had helped her bid goodbye to some important allies and escorted her from the ball room where Corvo had scooped her into his arms to carry her to bed. Daud had stared after him longingly, but following him now would be an incredibly stupid idea, so he had settled for staying in the ball room.

After passing some time talking to  Tilda Roseburrow and sneaking through the dark corner of the ball room unseen to appear behind Lord Pyne or his obnoxious son out of nowhere, each time causing them to flinch and curse, Daud decides that he’s had enough. He finds Thomas and Misha, the Whalers that had wanted to accompany him to the ball. Daud frowns when he notices Misha’s elegant jacket looking strangely bulky.

“How was your evening, Master Daud?” Thomas asks.

“No bloodstains on the carpet and no dead nobles. Good, I’d say,” Daud says. What he does not talk about is the unreadable shine in Corvo’s impossibly soft, dark eyes when he had given him the soup, a picture that will burn itself into his retinas until the end of fucking time.

“The Pynes have been _such_ a delight. Hendric gave my ass a slap once when I passed by him!” Misha complains.

“And you left him alive? Impressive,” Daud comments with a lopsided grin. “By the way, what happened to your jacket?”

Misha looks abashed, and next to her Thomas suddenly seems to have taken a great interest in the pattern of the carpet. “Well, Master… We drew for who would be allowed to come with you, and the lucky one who got chosen would have to bring something to drink for the others,” she says reluctantly.

One of Daud’s eyebrows rises and he steps forward, his steely eyes meeting hers with that certain look that Daud had mastered over decades, the look that makes grown men whine for mercy. Misha holds it for a few seconds before she falters. She slowly opens her jacket. A number of expensive looking bottles of all kinds of alcohol are hidden under the blue velvet, responsible for her odd bulky look.

“Stealing from the crown that pays you to serve the Empire? I was under the impression you had agreed to change our ways,” Daud chides, and he means it. About a year ago he wouldn’t have batted an eye when his men stole from the palace for their own purposes, but that’s different now.

“No, Sir, it’s not what it seems! We’ve only taken them from guests who smuggled their own bottles in. This brandy here is from Lord Ridley. You know, the one who annoyed you so much during the last court session?”

“ _We_?” Daud repeats, shooting Thomas the same piercing look.

Thomas stares at his feet, but then he opens his vest and produces a bottle of white wine from Morley. “Sorry, Sir.”

Daud huffs, arms crossed in front of his chest. He enjoys letting Thomas and Misha hem and haw a little more before he speaks again. “Only taken from guests, you say?”

“Especially obnoxious guests, yes,” Misha confirms sheepishly.

The corners of Daud’s mouth curl up into a smirk. “I’m very disappointed. Have I taught you nothing? Why would you choose that terrible white wine from Alba when there’s Caulkenny whiskey? I thought you had better taste,” Daud says and discreetly points to where another drunk noble is slumped in a chair, fast asleep, an unopened bottle of exquisite whiskey on a side table next to him.

Misha and Thomas exchange a hopeful look. “Sir, does that mean…?”

“I haven’t seen _anything_ ,” Daud interrupts and turns to leave. He smiles inwardly when he hears the characteristic jingle of many bottles gathered in a person’s arms behind him, and he doesn’t turn around when he hears a window opening. Two times the Void calls and Misha and Thomas are up and away into the night with their loot.

Daud knows he should go to his own quarters now, to get some rest before tackling the next day.

He really knows he should do that, but somehow, he still ends up in front of Corvo’s quarters, the image of Corvo’s thankful smile still lurking in his mind, causing him to knock on the door. He listens carefully, but there’s no sound of somebody getting up coming from inside. Daud knows he should have expected as much, since it’s so terribly late that it’s almost time to get up again. Still, Daud opens his inner eye, and finds Corvo’s quarters empty.

Furrowing his brow he looks around himself and spots Corvo’s familiar silhouette in the Empress’ quarters, right next to her Lord Protector’s rooms. As far as he can see, Corvo is sitting in a chair close to a small, sleeping figure. Before Daud can talk himself out of it, he marches over to the door and knocks again.

Corvo has a menacing frown on his face when he jerks open the door, but it immediately softens into a tired smile when he recognizes Daud. Corvo gestures a greeting, his palm going to his mouth to stifle a yawn shortly after before raking his fingers through his hopelessly messed up hair. He looks like he’s ready to drop and fall asleep, but apparently he has decided to stay awake.

“Still on duty?” Daud asks, not quite sure what else to say. He can hardly tell Corvo that the prospect of sleeping alone becomes less and less inviting every day, not even mentioning the _other_ things Daud has mulled over in his treacherous mind a thousand times.

Corvo nods sleepily. _There are many strangers in the Tower during festivities such as this. Manservants of guests, butlers, guards… I need to stay with Emily for the night, just in case._

Daud nods, disappointment making his stomach clench tightly. “I see.”

Something apologetic crosses Corvo’s tired features, causing Daud to have to quench the wish to carry him to bed and envelop him in his arms. Corvo signs.

_I’d very much like to invite you over, but I have to stay awake. You should get some sleep. Thanks for the soup again, it was delicious._

“No problem.”

For a moment, neither of them speaks, Corvo standing in the doorway and Daud in the corridor, and Daud feels like the silence between them is brimming with things he can’t say, and maybe Corvo feels so too, at least judging by his dark, soft gaze. Corvo suddenly yawns against the back of his hand again, causing Daud to grin at the stupidly adorable face he makes.

“Alright, you should get yourself some cold water and keep watching over your little monster. I don’t want to keep you from your work. Just make sure you catch up on sleep tomorrow, you hear me?”

Corvo smiles and nods, and Daud, feeling too self-conscious for his taste, decides that he’s been acting like a stricken fool enough for one evening.

“Well, good night, bodyguard.” Daud hesitates a moment when he realizes something. “What’s the sign for _good night_? I’ve never seen you use it before.”

The infuriating reason for this is that every time Daud bid Corvo good night, Corvo was usually nestled close to Daud with his arms around his torso or vice versa, and thus not able to use his hands to sign, settling for a soft grunt in response to Daud’s words.

Corvo’s eyes are so dark they could rival the Outsider, but much, much more beautiful.

_Want me to show you?_

“The sign for _good night_. Yes, please.”

Corvo nods, very slowly, and he lifts both hands. Daud mirrors the stance like he has done a thousand times while they were practicing, but instead of gesturing Corvo makes a step forward out of the doorway, closing the distance between them until he’s standing right in front of Daud.

Daud futilely attempts to ask Corvo what in the Void he’s doing, but Corvo’s palms gently cup his cheeks, _burning_ when they touch his skin, and all of Daud’s words die in his throat. He stares at Corvo’s face, completely petrified, and his mind flows over with a maelstrom of questions and desires and _hopes_ , and the gnawing, painful doubt whether Corvo actually feels the same for Daud as he does for him, whether Corvo returns at least a fraction of Daud’s agonizingly suppressed affection, and then Corvo leans in.

Daud’s doubts are violently scattered from his mind and his heartbeat stutters to a stop when Corvo’s lips touch his right cheek, warm and soft and gentle.

It’s not a quick, innocent peck like the ones Emily gives Corvo when it’s time for her to go to bed. Corvo doesn’t withdraw after having kissed the scar running across the right side of Daud’s face. He lingers, tantalizingly close, his breath hot on Daud’s skin, and then Corvo kisses his cheek again, following the scar, and presses a third kiss on his jawbone.

Daud finds himself unable to move, heart pounding wildly in his chest and powerful tingles running down his spine even at the chaste simplicity of the touch. Corvo withdraws from him, leaving cold spots where his hands had rested on Daud’s cheeks. Corvo throws him another gentle smile, pupils wide and apologetic and still unreadable, and then he closes the door, leaving Daud in a blissful, shocked stupor.

Daud blinks at the door for a moment before he jerks back into reality, suddenly remembering how to breathe. He spins around and marches towards his own quarters, forcing his racing heartbeat to calm down under his brusque stride, trying to let the white-hot surge of adrenaline seep out through his muscles. Daud covers a long section of the corridors by using five Transversals in rapid succession, and finally the physical exhaustion manages to tame the swirling mess of thoughts in his mind a bit.

When Daud reaches his quarters he slams the door closed behind him and heavily leans against it, finally allowing himself to indulge in the phantom of the sensation Corvo’s lips have left on his skin. It feels like the remainders of a burn wound, heated and oversensitive, but not painful, not in the least. Quite the opposite.

Daud’s mind is a lazily grinning wreck, and a part of him is convinced that he should be furious about a simple kiss on the cheek causing him to behave like a smitten fool, but he’s still so dizzy with bliss that he can’t bring himself to care. Not a single person he had ever met had made him feel like he does now, and Daud is under no illusion that _that_ part of the tales about soulmate bonds seems to be absolutely accurate. Daud’s whole body _aches_ to run back to Corvo, haul him up from the chair he’s sitting in to pin him against the next convenient surface, kissing him breathless and grinding against him until they both forget how to think.

But he won’t. He wants it so much that it hurts, more than anything, but he won’t.

At least not now.

This last thought is new to Daud. He furrows his brow as he tries to think about when exactly his strive for Corvo’s acceptance and, back then a futile hope, _forgiveness_ , had turned into this desperate, heated desire he feels for Corvo. It’s not only the discovery that he has a soulmate unlucky enough to bear his mark, it’s… _more_. Daud longs to make amends, longs to make up for at least a fraction of the guilt he has heaped upon his shoulders by being a good soulmate for Corvo, and at some point he had started to develop the burning need to make Corvo happy, in any way he can.

For the longest time, Daud had thought that need hopeless, but that had changed, and Outsider be damned if he knows when. It had been a sneaking, slow process, and the gentle kisses Corvo had pressed to his cheek combined with that mesmerizing look in his eyes had scattered Daud’s doubts that his wish for more than just a platonic bond was entirely one-sided.

Corvo and him had agreed on a platonic bond unless they decided otherwise.

Daud had decided otherwise long ago, and his firm belief that Corvo would never do so as well had withered slowly the closer Corvo grew to him and finally broke to pieces this evening.

Daud knows there is still a chance that he’s wrong, that Daud will never muster the courage to make the move to find out if Corvo feels the same about their bond as he does, that Corvo will never be able to see past the horrible things standing between them.

Still, now he knows that fragile little spark of affection between them is real.

Daud slowly raises his hand to his cheek, letting his fingertips graze over his scar, imagining that it’s Corvo’s soft lips again, and he pointedly ignores the stupidly wistful expression that plasters itself on his face while he does so.

So that’s the sign for good night, then.

He’ll make sure to remember it.

Daud slowly walks over to his desk, lost in thought. There is still the matter of how and when to tackle the question, asking Corvo what he wants, and if he wants more than just innocent closeness. It’s not only Daud’s past standing between them, it’s also the simple fact that Corvo is heterosexual, generally, and despite the chaste intimacies he had shared with Daud so far it’s entirely possible that this is where he draws the line. Daud is painfully aware of that, but he needs to find out if this is the case, and he hopes with all his heart that it’s not. His gaze wanders over the calendar on his desk, little crosses marking the days passed. The month of songs is halfway over, and at the end of the month, there’s the Fugue Feast.

Daud makes the decision to ask Corvo then.


	14. Chapter 14

**XIV.**

By the day before the Fugue Feast evening, Daud is a nervous wreck.

Only on the inside, of course, but on the outside his agitation shows itself as a state of constant irritability, and his Whalers avoid him warily whenever he storms in their training area to snap and growl at the recruits unlucky enough to cross his path. For the days of the Fugue, Daud assigns some rotating standard patrols to the Whalers that prefer getting some extra coin instead of celebrating. He does so with unusual terseness and gives the others the days the feast lasts off. His men and women accept their orders with careful courtesy, already well familiar with Daud’s temper, and even though he appreciates their efforts to not agitate him any further he can’t bring himself to thank any of them with more than a short grunt.

Daud had mulled the words over in his head at least a hundred times, the question he plans to ask Corvo. Asking his soulmate whether he wants more than just a platonic bond. Daud is aware that almost a year of desperate pining could have caused him to see things that aren’t there, overestimating Corvo’s signs. When he reminisces about everything though, every lingering touch, every too-long lasting gaze, every badly suppressed groan of pleasure, he is sure that he can’t be mistaken. Almost, that is. They’ve been dancing around each other for so long now and at some point, Daud feels, one of them needs to make the next move.

Even though Daud hopes desperately that he hasn’t been misinterpreting the signs, it’s still entirely possible that despite Corvo’s obvious display of comfort around him, his soulmate prefers keeping their bond platonic. But the tension is killing Daud, and he _needs_ to know.

Daud wouldn’t admit this under torture, but a part of him is afraid of Corvo’s answer. If Corvo doesn’t want what Daud offers him, if he acts shocked or repelled upon such an offer, considering the things that still stand between them… Maybe Corvo could only ever imagine a more intimate relationship with Daud after forgiving him, and maybe he will never forgive him at all. Daud is not sure if he could handle it. To prevent such a thing from happening he’d rather keep going like they are now. He’d rather have that than nothing at all.

Before Daud can stop himself he’s standing in front of Corvo’s quarters and his treacherous hand reaches up to knock on the wood. He’d used his Void Gaze to make sure Corvo is alone, and when his soulmate opens the door he seems to have known exactly who had knocked. They exchange a smile and Corvo offers Daud to come in.

Daud marches over to Corvo’s littered desk and casually plucks a document from the closest pile, skimming over the text.

“Safety measures during the Fugue? Sounds exciting.”

Corvo chuckles briefly and rolls his eyes in an exaggeratedly sarcastic manner. He picks up a cup of tea from a small table and hands it to Daud who accepts it with hands that shake only a tiny bit, something he’s proud of, considering the circumstances.

 _The paperwork always seems to get stuck with me_ , Corvo signs.

“Wait until you see my desk. Every damn noble in the city seems to host a party with enough fireworks to burn down the entire district,” Daud comes back. He takes a deep breath and places the cup next to him on the desk, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. “Speaking of which… Do you have plans for the Fugue already?”

Corvo, who had been picking up a book, freezes in his motion. He slowly places the book back on the table and turns his head, his soft brown eyes meeting Daud’s. Daud swallows heavily and asks himself whether his words had been too obvious, implying that he’d like to spend the Fugue with Corvo.

Corvo straightens, as if buying himself to time to answer, and then something sad crosses his features. He lifts his hands to sign, the gestures appearing hesitantly.

_It’s my duty to stay with the Empress during the Fugue._

So much for his question, then.

Daud blinks, feeling incredibly stupid. Why in the Void had he not thought of that? The Fugue Feast had always been an open invitation for drunken go-getters to attempt an assault on the Tower, either to steal or simply to break in and see what happens, and Daud can remember at least three attempted attacks on the Emperor during Fugues over the last decades.

Trying to regain his leftover dignity, he shrugs as if Corvo’s answer doesn’t bother him at all. “Alright, then. So you’ll spend the evening with Emily, I presume?”

Corvo nods. _We’ll stay in her quarters and watch the fireworks, she likes that a lot. She may stay up later than usual during the Fugue._

Then, Corvo hesitates a moment, his hands hovering in mid-air. A strangely hopeful expression flickers in his eyes when he keeps signing.

_You are welcome to join, if you like. I’d be very happy to have your company._

Daud blinks, dumbfounded. “Oh, I… That’s very nice of you to offer, but…”

To his surprise, Corvo nods slowly and averts his gaze, looking disappointed.

_I’m sorry, it was impolite to ask. Of course you are free to take the days of the celebration off, so go out and have some fun, please. I’m sure spending your time babysitting is not what you had in mind._

That’s not what Daud had in mind indeed, but upon seeing Corvo’s sad expression Daud hurries to make a step forward, grabbing Corvo’s wrist to stop him from turning away.

“No, wait. I… I’d very much like to stay with you. With you and Emily, I mean.”

Their eyes meet, and by the Void, Corvo’s soft brown gaze lighting up is something that’ll haunt Daud in his sleep until the end of time.

_Are you sure you’d rather stay with Emily and me instead of going out to celebrate?_

Daud holds his breath. The decision whether he wants to spend his time taking care of Emily by Corvo’s side instead of going out to have anonymous, meaningless sex with some drunken stranger is one of the easiest he ever made, but he makes sure not to let it show.

“Yes.”

Daud’s heart beats so fast he can hardly breathe at the way Corvo smiles.

-

When Corvo tells Emily that Daud is going to stay with them during the Fugue, she squeals so loudly that it makes his ears ring.

“Oh, we’re going to have _so_ much fun! Daud can read stories for me and we can play guessing games, and we can watch the fireworks and…” Her excited chattering trails behind her as Emily skitters over to a shelf to fetch some of her favorite books. Arms loaded with books, she returns and places them on the pile of Fugue Feast supplies she has stacked on the couch.

Corvo smiles fondly, rubbing his left ear with one hand, and continues to inspect her quarters for any safety gaps. He knows there are none, he’s checked every corner a hundred times, especially the places he had used to sneak through when he had infiltrated the Tower to go after the Lord Regent. Corvo still makes sure to check, just in case. Emily doesn’t only inhabit Jessamine’s former quarters in the very core of the Tower, she also has some rooms closer to the outer walls of the building, with large window fronts and balconies opening up outside. Corvo had decided not to stay in the central room, because this is the place where a potential aggressor would look for the Empress first, and settled for one of the spare rooms. It has large windows, a balcony and a fireplace, and a small bedroom to one side. The center of the room is taken up by a large couch that Emily slowly turns into a pillow fortress.

The late afternoon sun casts a warm, orange light through the windows when Daud shows up in front of Emily’s quarters, and before Corvo can greet his soulmate, Emily has weaseled past him and thrown her arms around Daud’s midriff, pressing her face against his chest.

“Hello Emily,” he says, patting her hair a little awkwardly upon her display of excitement, but Corvo notices the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. Daud lifts his gaze and shoots Corvo a smile, who hurries to gently pry Emily from Daud so he can come in and close the door behind him.

“Have you set up the guard patrols in the corridors?”

Corvo nods, instinctively doing a mental check of his agenda, the routes of the patrols, the crucial changing of the guards, the present Tower personnel, the…

A warm hand on his shoulder interrupts his thoughts, and he looks up to meet Daud’s gaze. His soulmate shoots him an almost chiding glance, tinted with something warm and gentle.

“Relax, Corvo. Nothing is going to happen. You’ve taken care of all possible eventualities, and of the impossible ones as well, knowing you. And I’m here with you too, to look after the little monster.”

“I heard that,” Emily chimes in happily from where she’s heaping pillows on the couch.

“Good!” Daud comes back before he turns back to Corvo. “What I’m saying is… Try to let go a little, alright? If I can help you in any way let me know.”

_What about the witches?_

Daud frowns, looking sincere. “Guess what, bodyguard, I’ve thought about that too. But I don’t think they will make a move, not during the Fugue. If I had to guess I’d say they want to make an example with whatever madness they have planned, you know, a big show to revenge Delilah. During the Fugue, nobody will see whatever they have set up, and considering how narcissistic Delilah was I assume her fanatics needs a large audience. Sneaking into Emily’s bedroom is not their style.”

Slowly, Corvo nods. His soulmate’s reasoning makes sense, and Corvo trusts Daud’s experience with the witches. Still, he can’t get rid of the tense feeling of danger that always sits deeply rooted in the back of his mind and never seems to go away.

As if Daud had read his thoughts, he lifts a hand and briefly runs it over the side of Corvo’s face. “I’ll keep both eyes open for you, if that makes you feel better.”

With that, Corvo finally manages a smile and nods, and Daud’s thumb brushes over his cheek, the brief touch leaving tingles in its wake. His soulmate walks past him, approaching Emily’s Fugue fortress. Corvo asks himself for the umpteenth time whether Daud is actually happy with the thought of keeping Corvo company during his bodyguard duty instead of enjoying the Feast. When Daud had asked him about his plans for the Feast only to learn that Corvo had work to attend to, something Corvo hadn’t realized being open in Daud’s face had slammed shut immediately, and Corvo had known it had hurt him. Now, though, he can tell by Daud’s relaxed posture and the slight curl of the corner of his lip that he seems to be quite satisfied with his decision, so Corvo lets go of that worry, at least for now.

“What in the Void is that?” he hears Daud ask Emily, eyeing the mess around the large couch.

“It’s all the things I need during the Fugue Feast. Pillows, crayons, books, playing cards, blankets, cookies, whale oil lamps for when it gets dark… I may stay up all night today and watch the fireworks,” Emily explains proudly.

“And how do you plan to see the fireworks from there? It’s way too far from the window,” Daud comes back.

That puts a little damper on Emily’s excited mood. “The couch is very heavy,” she says.

Daud doesn’t answer, but Corvo raises his eyebrows and huffs out a surprised laugh when Daud lets the mark on his hand flare up. A green glow envelops the couch and it lifts a hand’s breadth from the floor, hovering slowly towards the windows. Emily, who had been sitting in the middle, makes an excited sound when her seat suddenly moves on its own. In front of the large glass panel doors of the balcony, the couch stops and settles itself on the carpet covering the marble tiles with a soft thud.

“Better?”

Emily turns to Daud excitedly. “Do that again! Make the couch fly again!”

“No.”

“ _Please_!”

“What part of _no_ do you not understand?”

“Come on, Daud!”

Instead of bothering to argue, Daud reaches into his coat pocket and produces a small spyglass made of shining bronze, a fine piece beautifully engraved with delicate, interwoven patterns. He extends it and hands it over to Emily, who lets out another excited squeal and immediately rushes to the windows to try it out.

Daud exhales slowly, visibly relieved to not be the center of Emily’s attention any longer, but he fails to make his annoyed frown look convincing. Corvo watches as Daud starts to collect the little whale oil lamps scattered throughout the room.

_What are you doing?_

Daud picks up another lamp before he answers. “Would you mind if I replace them with candles?”

Corvo briefly raises his eyebrows in surprise, but then he recalls that Daud’s quarters are always lit with fire and candles, never with burning whale oil.

_I already noticed you don’t like whale oil lamps that much._

“I prefer candles.”

_Why?_

Daud hesitates, his hand hovering over an oil lamp. He gazes over his shoulder at Corvo, as if deciding whether he wants to answer or not. Eventually, his hand moves and he picks up the lamp. “They remind me of Outsider shrines. I don’t want my quarters to smell like the Void.”

Corvo nods, understanding. Sometimes he forgets about how long his soulmate already had his mark, and how often he must have been visited by the Whale God, and also about the ups and downs they had during what Corvo calls a relationship by lack of a better word. Corvo wouldn’t describe his encounters with the Outsider, or the visits in the Void, as pleasant, and he can understand Daud wanting to separate some parts of his life from things that remind him of his time with the strange deity.

Besides, Corvo associates candlelight with Daud’s quarters, and that place he associates with comfort and warmth.

_No objections. Let me help you._

Together they set up small candelabras and distribute a number of candles that Daud has brought in a bag throughout the room. All the while, Emily reports to them what she sees with the spyglass Daud had given her, and Corvo is suddenly glad that it’s still daytime and the Fugue hasn’t reached the point of unrestrained passions yet, otherwise he would certainly not allow her to watch the streets.

“I’m a pirate captain, Daud!” she shouts at one point.

“Of course you are. A very short one,” Daud replies, and grins when Emily spins around from her vantage point on the balcony and shoots him a squinty glare.

“No offense, Emily. I’m sure you’ll be taller than me one day, looking at Corvo.”

“Just you wait,” Emily comes back smiling and continues to peek through the spyglass.

Daud chuckles, reaches into a pocket and produces a package of cigarettes. He plucks one out with his teeth and nods to the balcony, a questioning look on his face. Corvo understands and signals him that he doesn’t mind as long as Daud stays outside while smoking. Daud joins Emily on the balcony, positioning himself in a way that the chilly evening breeze blows the smoke away from them and not in her direction.

Corvo occupies himself with minor activities in Emily’s quarters, doing more checkups of doors and ventilation shafts, but he does so mostly to be able to glance at Daud and Emily from the corner of his eye every now and then.

Corvo had already learned that Emily and Daud get along far better than he had known, but now that he has the chance to watch them interact for a longer time, Corvo realizes just how much Emily has warmed up to Daud, even though it eludes him how Daud had managed to gain her trust, considering his usual gruff demeanor. On the other hand, Corvo knows very well how smart Emily is, clearly having inherited her mother’s cunning shrewdness paired with Corvo’s instinctive mistrust. When Emily had talked to him about everything she’d been through during her imprisonment, Corvo hadn’t needed to convince her who the true evildoers were, she had realized that for herself very quickly. Corvo shudders when he recalls Emily telling him of her kidnapping. Even back then she had noticed that the Whalers had only acted on an order, treating her with a wary care, and that what the Pendleton twins had done to her was on purpose, slapping her when she didn’t stop crying and dragging her to her prison so harshly that they left bruises on her wrists.

When Corvo had heard that a surge of regret that he hadn’t taken the chance to kill the twins himself had filled him, and then he had remembered what Slackjaw had done to the Pendletons instead. A strange feeling of both angry satisfaction and burning guilt suffused him when he realized that a quick death might have been merciful compared to their fate, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about it too long without feeling numb and aching at the same time.

When Corvo had talked to Emily about Daud, though…

It still pains him when he recalls her shocked, hurt reaction upon telling her that Daud is his soulmate, that accusing glint in her eyes as if it’s Corvo’s fault. He recalls that Emily had understood that Hiram Burrows had been behind the plague and Jessamine’s death, but still, Corvo had not believed that Emily would ever warm up to his soulmate.

It fills him with a strange, shivering thankfulness when he watches Daud and Emily talk like friends. Their silhouettes are dark against the setting sun and tinted orange, Emily’s delicate, slender frame and Daud’s broad, muscular one towering above her as he rests his elbows on the railing. Corvo vaguely picks up his name while they speak and turns a little to eavesdrop.

“I told Corvo about our wristbow lessons,” Daud admits. Emily spins around to look up at him.

“Awww, why? I thought it was our secret!”

“It can stay our secret towards Callista and the others, if you want. Corvo and I… We’ve talked a lot, lately, and we agreed we would never have secrets from each other, so I decided to tell him,” Daud answers.

Emily hums thoughtfully and even though Corvo can’t see her face he knows the expression she’s wearing, her thin brows drawn together in a much more contemplative way than one would expect from a child her age.

“I think I like that. Corvo was always so sad when all those people lied to him. A soulmate bond should be about making each other happy, should it not? It’s alright with me that you told him,” she decides finally, and Corvo’s heart makes a little lurch when he notices Daud’s posture tense up at her words.

“I’m glad you feel that way about it,” Daud answers eventually.

“Does Corvo want me to stop learning wristbow shooting?”

Emily’s genuinely worried tone makes Corvo grin, and Daud huffs out a small laugh.

“No, he’s alright with it.”

“Oh, good. I would have missed our lessons.”

“Me too.”

Corvo watches Daud reach out to ruffle Emily’s black hair with his free hand, and Emily giggles and leans into the touch. She continues watching the surrounding buildings with the spyglass Daud had given her.

Daud takes another drag from his cigarette, lazily letting the smoke spill from his parted lips before the cold breeze picks it up. The buttery light softens his features and makes him look younger, and strangely enough the sight causes Corvo’s mouth to turn dry.

Seeing Daud smoke reminds Corvo of when he was lurking in the shadows of a shelf in the Chamber of Commerce, watching Daud pace and wallow in regret while Corvo fought for composure, watching this man that had turned out to be his soulmate.

Back then, Daud had lit one cigarette after the next, nervous and tense as he waited for what he assumed was his doom to arrive. Now, the sharp-edged relief of his muscular back is relaxed and the shirt with the rolled up sleeves is making his posture look easy. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he turns his head towards Emily to reply to her chattering. Seeing him like this makes Corvo’s heart pound faster in a way he has felt increasingly often over the last months, and he’s not entirely sure what that means.

Eventually, Daud finishes his smoke and returns inside, and Emily follows him. Behind them, the Abbey bells announce the beginning of the Fugue Feast. The sun had disappeared behind the jagged skyline of Dunwall, the shadows growing longer and the fires in the streets lighting up the city from below. Corvo locks the heavy glass doors of the balcony while Daud lights the candles. Corvo has to admit the room looks much more comfortable now, and the subtle light the flames give off doesn’t look as striking as whale oil from outside, suggesting the room is empty. Emily flops down on the couch and plucks a book from the wobbly pile.

“I want to read a story now,” she announces.

Corvo places his coat on a chair, toes off his boots and fetches himself a cup of coffee. He sits next to his daughter on the couch and glances over at the book she had chosen. It’s one of her favorites, fairytales from the frostbitten valleys and deep forests of Tyvia. Corvo’s gaze flicks over to Daud, who sits on the other end of the couch, cradling a steaming cup in his hands.

“Daud!”

Daud slightly turns his head. “What?”

“I said I would like to read a story,” Emily repeats a little louder, her tone sounding half empress-like and half amused.

“No objections. Do as you please.”

Emily makes an exaggerated eyeroll and squints up at Corvo, who struggles to keep the mouthful of coffee in, fighting the urge to laugh. He swallows heavily and puts the cup down before he noisily clears his throat to get Daud’s attention.

Daud looks up immediately when his soulmate signals that he wishes to speak, and Corvo signs.

_Emily would like you to read a story for her._

The look Daud returns is somewhere between pained and annoyed. He obviously doesn’t want to object Corvo, but he also doesn’t want to read while Corvo is listening. The look on Daud’s face is so unintentionally funny it causes Corvo to grin at him in a childish, mischievous way, and when Daud’s annoyed glare deepens Corvo has to bite his lip. He reaches over and pats the free space on Emily’s other side, offering him a teasing little smirk.

Daud rolls his eyes and scoots over until he sits by Emily’s side and takes the book from her.

“Fine. As long as it’s not Captain Bonny again,” he growls.

“No, it’s fairytales from Tyvia.”

“Great,” Daud huffs sarcastically, but Corvo can sense his annoyance is more feigned than real, and when Emily leans against Daud’s side he lifts his arm and places it on the backrest behind them to allow her to press close. Corvo shuffles closer too until Emily is wedged between the two of them, and Daud starts reading.

The longer Corvo listens to Daud’s voice, the more he realizes how pleasant it can sound. When they talk, Daud usually listens more than he speaks, mostly because Corvo’s way of talking takes more time, but also because Daud is rather sparing with words. Corvo rarely gets the chance to listen to Daud doing a longer monologue interrupted only by occasional comments from Emily. Daud’s voice sounds like it’s been dragged across gravel, raspy and deep, and for some reason it’s perfect to read stories about castles on frostbitten mountains and dark creatures living under the surfaces of ice-coated lakes.

When they reach an especially scary paragraph, Daud drops his voice to a low rumble, causing Emily to bite her nails and shrink in on herself, eyes wide with excitement. His voice has a very different effect on Corvo, though, chasing a powerful shiver down his spine and making his skin crawl with pleasure. His treacherous mind briefly entertains the thought of Daud whispering into his ear with that husky voice of his, but not about haunted dungeons, no, about… other things.

Corvo quickly snaps open eyes that he hadn’t realized he’d closed and carefully glances over to Daud to see if he had noticed. Daud’s eyes are fixed on the book, but one of his brows rises a little.

And then, Corvo feels fingers digging into the hair on the back of his head, causing him to inhale sharply as his mind turns into mush. He vaguely realizes through a blissful haze that the hand Daud had placed on the backrest had slowly crept closer to Corvo until he was within touching range, and Daud’s finger gently scratch his scalp. Immediately, a swarm of flutters runs down Corvo’s back and he shivers with pleasure. His eyes dart down to Emily who is sitting between Daud and him, completely taken up by the story and oblivious to what’s going on behind her.

Daud doesn’t stop reading, he doesn’t even bother to turn his head. He just keeps going, and his fingers move through Corvo’s hair, gently and firmly massaging his skin, and makes Corvo feel like a lump of wax in a fire under his touch. Eventually his head slumps to the side, leaning closer to Daud to grant him better access, and now Corvo notices the faintest hint of a smirk on Daud’s lips. He knows perfectly well he’s hitting Corvo’s weak spot, damn the sly bastard.

While Corvo enjoys his massage he briefly wonders if Daud also has a weak spot, and it’s infuriating how much he’d like to know what it is. Daud reads and curls his fingers through Corvo’s hair and Corvo feels boneless with pleasure, wishing he was alone with him.

And then Daud’s fingertips graze over that soft spot of skin behind his ear, above the jaw, and Corvo desperately tries to bite back the sudden moan that threatens to escape.

He fails.

“Corvo, what’s wrong? Did you get hurt?” Emily asks, turning around with worried eyes.

Corvo and Daud simultaneously freeze, staring at her in shocked bewilderment. Corvo blinks helplessly and Daud snatches his hand away from his hair as he struggles for words.

“I… I accidentally pulled on Corvo’s hair,” Daud rasps finally.

Emily frowns. “Don’t tease him like that, Daud,” she chides.

Daud visibly struggles to pull himself together. “I… Right. Sorry, Corvo.”

Corvo snaps out of his stupor and manages a smile, waving his hand dismissively. Emily seems to be content with the way she solved the situation and settles back against Daud’s side, and he keeps reading. Daud waits until he reaches a page with an illustration, causing Emily to bid him to stop for a moment so she can look at it, and he uses that short break to mouth _sorry_ to Corvo, and Corvo nods, smiling vaguely. Daud places the hand that had massaged Corvo’s hair on his shoulder instead, clearly worried that if he keeps going Corvo might not be able to hold himself back again, and Corvo is glad he does so. Still, there is an odd tension hovering between them, but it’s not entirely a bad one. Not at all.

Daud finishes the story, and Emily frowns as she mulls the ending over in her head. Eventually, she states: “The lonely wanderer reminds me of Kieron. He’s also always very grumpy around others, but to me he’s really nice.”

Corvo shoots Daud a questioning look. “One of my men that took care of her sometimes,” Daud elaborates, and Corvo nods as he remembers the red-haired young Whaler with the broken nose and the grouchy demeanor.

“I think you remind him of his little sister, that’s why he likes you,” Daud says to Emily.

Emily shuffles on the couch so she can look up at Daud. “Kieron has a little sister?”

“Had.”

Emily blinks, but then she understands, and her face falls. “Oh. What happened to her?”

Daud hesitates shortly, as if he’s considering whether he wants to tell her or not, but then he speaks.

“Kieron and his little sister were the children of a merchant who was often away at sea to trade, so Kieron took care of her. She had been born with a sickness, a weak heart and weak legs. Medicine allowed her to walk and kept her strong, more or less, but one day their father didn’t come back from his journey, and they ran out of money to buy her medicine,” Daud says, and Corvo notices Emily tense up between them. She shifts so that she’s kneeling, her hands on Daud’s thighs as she stares up at him.

“What did he do to help her?”

“Kieron always had a knack for poisons and alchemic substances. He first tried to make the medicine his sister needed himself, but that’s pretty impossible if you aren’t a physician, and she got even worse than before. Kieron read every book about alchemy and anatomy he could find, and stumbled upon recipes for narcotics, painkillers, that kind of stuff, and not exactly the legal ones. He stole ingredients and mixed drugs and poisons and sold them on the black market to make money.”

“Did it work?” Emily asks, her voice scared and thin as if she already knows what’s going to happen. Daud shrugs.

“They made it for a time, but his sister died eventually. When I was… out on a job in a house close to the place Kieron lived in, I saw him as he drank pretty much every vial he had in his makeshift laboratory.”

“Why?”

Corvo frowns, taken up by Daud’s story himself. He can very well guess what Kieron had tried to do to himself and he’s not sure if he wants Daud to continue, but he wouldn’t want him to sugarcoat the truth for Emily either.

Corvo finds out he’d been right. “Kieron wanted to poison himself,” Daud answers.

“But… why would he do that?”

“He was so sad that his sister died that he wanted to follow her into the Void,” Daud says, something soft and regretful in his face. “I stopped him from drinking any more of the poison, though, and made sure he survived his fit. At first Kieron hated me for that. I guess I wasn’t too gentle, but he was so close to the edge I had to hurry. When Kieron got healthy again he came back to his senses. I offered him to work for me, and he did. He’s the one making our sleep darts, and he often assists Jenkins in the laboratory.”

Emily hums thoughtfully. “I’m very sorry for his little sister. And for Kieron.”

“Me too,” Daud says. “That’s why I appointed him to take care of you. He may not show it, but he enjoys playing with you.”

Emily giggles. “He does. He seems happy now. And now I’m Empress, and I’ll make sure medicine is not too expensive so that everybody can get it, whether they are rich or not.”

Daud smiles that rare lopsided smile and ruffles Emily’s black hair. “I’m sure you will.”

Corvo had stared at Daud from the side while he was talking to Emily, and feels a sudden pang of sympathy as he is reminded that each and every one of the Whalers is a person that fate had dealt a shitty hand, until Daud came and gave the cards a shuffle. It’s something Corvo had learned very lately about his soulmate, and sadly tends to forget too often. Daud’s past is littered with crimes and his hands used to be as red as his coat from all the blood he’d spilled, but as the heart once told Corvo, even though Daud’s hands did violence, there is something different in him.

Daud might have been that legendary assassin, the Knife of Dunwall for a long time, but to become as he is now, he hadn’t had to change himself. Daud had always possessed that gentle, caring side, covered up by his hate and disgust towards the rotten, unfair society he lived in. That had slowly covered his heart in ice, until it suddenly had thawed when the catastrophe happened. Corvo has the impression that Daud’s time with him had helped him to unearth that side more, maybe even starting when Corvo had spared Daud’s life.

Corvo wants to believe this. He wants to believe his presence has that positive effect on Daud. He wants to believe that Daud trusts him enough to open up like this for his soulmate, that the trust between them is mutual.

“Well, what now?” Daud asks, and Emily takes the book from him and jumps from the couch.

“I’d like to have cookies. It’s still a little bit of time until the fireworks at midnight, and we could read another story. Please?”

Corvo turns his head and sees Daud rolling his eyes, letting out a resigned groan, but he accepts the cookie Emily holds up in front of his face. “Fine.”

“I’d like to read the book about sea monsters. It’s not in the pile, have you seen it, Corvo?”

Corvo shakes his head, an amused smile on his lips about his daughter’s excitement, and points to the side bedroom. Emily dashes out of the room to look for her book, and Daud uses the moment they have alone to shoot Corvo an apologetic glance.

“Sorry for… You know. Wasn’t my intention.”

_It’s alright. It was very nice until I forgot we weren’t alone. Sorry for that._

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Daud comes back with a lopsided smirk, and he returns his gaze out of the windows that don’t quite manage to block out the firelight and laughter and the sounds of feasting from the streets. Corvo feels guilty again, imagining that Daud would still prefer being out there having a good time instead of reading fairytales to an overly excited little Empress.

 _What did you usually do during the Fugue?_ Corvo’s hands ask before he can stop himself.

Daud blinks, taken aback by the question. He doesn’t look like he’s going to answer, and Corvo regrets asking him such a private question, since the Fugue is a time outside of time after all, and nothing that happens during the Feast is considered real by most people. Corvo is not even sure if he wants to hear the answer.

But Daud speaks, after all. “Sometimes I was hired to do some ridiculously overpriced job, but usually I got very drunk and found myself some stranger willing to share a bed with me, and afterwards I felt worse than before.”

His sober answer baffles Corvo for a moment, and he’s not sure how to react to that. Strangely enough, a part of him feels jealous, and he quickly represses that feeling, blinking in confusion. Most of the Fugues in his life have been about guarding Jessamine, and since a certain kind of relationship had been established between the two of them, guarding her while he was in bed with her, but Corvo knows that’s probably the worst topic to bring up one could think of. Daud seems to share the sentiment, since he doesn’t return the question, but something _knowing_ flickers up in his piercing gray eyes.

“You’re asking yourself whether I actually want to be here instead of celebrating out there. Stop overthinking things, bodyguard. I made my choice, and I don’t regret it,” Daud says firmly. Corvo feels like his heart is melting. He casts a quick look over to where Emily is still skimming through her shelves, and briefly leans over, pressing close to Daud. Daud responds to it by leaning into the touch, one of his hands creeping up the back of Corvo’s neck and digging into his hair. Corvo closes his eyes and almost purrs with pleasure, and it gets him so distracted he barely notices when Daud gently pulls Corvo’s head closer to him.

Corvo’s eyes snap back open when Daud presses a careful kiss against Corvo’s temple, his lips warm and lingering long enough that Corvo can feel Daud’s breath.

His soulmate retreats from him, eyes on the doorframe where Emily is showing up, the book in her arms. She flops back on the couch and hands the book to Daud, who very convincingly acts like he hadn’t just kissed Corvo’s temple a mere moment ago, and Corvo has trouble snapping out of his blissful shock.

He notices through a haze that Emily had just asked him a question, and he hurries to sign his answer. Daud gazes at him with a look that is somewhere between a knowing smirk and an almost insecure expression, as if he had just ventured something so daring he’s surprised by his own boldness.

Corvo distracts himself from the tingling sensation on his skin by shuffling closer to Emily, who had pressed up against Daud’s side with the cookie box on her lap, one of his arms looped around her as he reads a chapter about monstrous Pandyssian clams large enough to fit a grown man. Daud’s warm closeness and the husky drone of his voice are so pleasant that Corvo relaxes, finally, and almost drifts off.

And suddenly, there’s chaos.

It starts with a piercing whistle and a blinding flash of light filling the room followed by a thunderous roar. The metal sash bars of the balcony doors tremble and clatter and a cloud of red and green detonations cover the window in a rain of sparks and noise, and Emily shrieks in shock.

Corvo is up on his feet within the fraction of a second, sword drawn and the mark on his left hand flaring up. He brings himself between Emily and the window, ready to shield her, and stares at the mess of light and hissing sparks as he tries to pinpoint the aggressor, scanning the explosion for any movements with year-long trained routine.

There is none, and Corvo notices to his great relief that the explosion and the light wasn’t a bomb or a projectile, it was merely an errant firework that had hit the balcony. The burned remains of the rocket are visible on the floor of the balcony now where it had exploded, causing the noise and the cloud of sparks.

Outside, there are more whistling noises and the distant roar of explosions like slow gunfire, and a fountain of golden and red sparks lights up the night sky. The fireworks had started without Corvo noticing, and one of the rockets had apparently taken a wrong turn and ricocheted against the balcony, exploding right in front of the windows. Corvo takes a deep breath to force his racing heartbeat to calm, the rush of adrenaline slowly subsiding.

He turns around to look after Emily, and finds the couch empty. Corvo’s alertness returns with full force and he frantically starts scanning the room, but then he spots Daud a little distance away, his back turned towards Corvo.

“I got her,” Daud hurries to say as he sees Corvo’s alarmed look. Corvo realizes that Daud had scooped up Emily in the very same second that Corvo had drawn his sword, and transversed away from the window with her. Daud is holding Emily in his arms, pressed close against his chest, shielding her with his body. “False alarm?”

Corvo slowly lets out his breath and nods. He checks the balcony one more time, and when he doesn’t find any more signs of danger he returns to the couch, letting himself flop down on the cushions heavily. Daud joins him and carefully drops Emily on Corvo’s lap. She doesn’t seem too worried, but the sudden explosion so close to them had spooked her nonetheless, and she throws her arms around Corvo’s neck and buries her face in his hair.

Corvo makes a soft noise to soothe her and gently rubs her back. The couch dips as Daud sits down beside him, shooting him a chiding glance.

“What did I tell you about getting paranoid, Attano?”

Corvo has to chuckle, despite himself, and reaches over to run his fingers through Daud’s hair. He realizes Daud had reacted immediately to the threat by protecting Emily, getting her out of the danger zone, and the sheer gravity of his action shows Corvo once more that Daud is not only _trying_ to make amends in any way he can, he just _does_ it. Daud huffs, but leans into the touch anyway. “Think we can sit here now and watch the fireworks without you jumping to battle stance at every little noise?”

That earns Daud a raised middle finger, and he chuckles and takes Corvo’s offending hand in his, pulling it against his chest.

“That was just a rocket, wasn’t it?” Emily asks carefully, and Corvo nods. Emily puts up her bravest expression, and adds: “I wasn’t afraid at all. It was just a little loud, that’s all.”

Corvo notices Daud’s smirk from the corner of his eye, and apparently Emily notices too. “I saw that, Daud.”

Daud grunts, but smiles nonetheless. He gets up to fetch himself another cup of coffee, and then decides to take off his boots too, placing them next to Corvo’s before he sits cross-legged on the couch. The room is lit by soft candlelight and bright flashes in all colors from outside, and the three of them huddle on the couch together, Emily draped partly over Corvo’s lap and partly over Daud’s. At one point, Daud places his arms on the backrest and loops one arm around Corvo’s shoulder to gently pull him against him, and Corvo happily complies, enjoying Daud’s massive heat next to him. It surprises him every time how pleasant Daud’s scent is. Daud smells of warm leather, earthy and comforting, but there is something else below that, the stinging, bitter scent of something dangerous, barely hidden behind the other tones, mirroring the predatory glint in his eyes hiding behind each of his smiles. It’s not unpleasant, though, quite the opposite, and Corvo turns his face into the curve of Daud’s neck, inhaling deeply.

For a long time, neither of them talks, despite the occasional sounds of amazement from Emily, and it’s so utterly comfortable Corvo can hardly wrap his mind around it.

Eventually, the fireworks stop, reduced to an occasional rocket here and there, tinting the night sky purple, red and green. Way after midnight, Emily gets sleepy, and bids Corvo good night by pressing a kiss on his cheek. Then she pushes herself up a little and leans over to Daud, supporting herself against his chest, and by the Void, the look on Daud’s face when Emily gives him a peck on his cheek too makes Corvo want to laugh at him and weep for joy at the same time. She then curls up in Corvo’s lap, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

“This was a very nice Fugue, Corvo,” she says drowsily, her eyes falling shut every now and then. Corvo hums in response, feeling warm with contentment when he remembers her delighted smile. Moments like this, when he can allow himself indulge in the feeling of them being a family, father and daughter, rather than an Empress and her Protector, are way too rare, and Corvo relishes every second of it.

“And I’m glad that Daud is here too,” Emily mumbles on, and Corvo feels Daud tense up slightly. “I’m very sorry that I was so angry when you said you wanted to bring him to the Tower. Now I’m glad you did. He’s the best.”

Corvo makes a soft sound to hush her, stroking her cheek clumsily in hope that Emily doesn’t say anything that might hurt Daud’s feelings while she’s rambling sleepily. Emily giggles and pushes his hand away.

“I also think that Daud is really nice, and I like him a lot, like you said you did. You’ve been so much happier since he is at the Tower. You said soulmates should make each other happy and he’s making you happy and that’s good.”

Now Corvo hopes against all hope that the powerful flush that’s heating up his chest is not visible on his face, but it probably is, and he can _feel_ Daud’s intense stare bore into the side of his head. Corvo focuses on Emily to evade that look on Daud’s face, suddenly anxious to return it and see his own feelings staring back at him.

“You know, sometimes it’s like I have two daddies.”

At that, Corvo’s breath hitches in his throat, and the tension Daud radiates next to him is making it hard to swallow, his face feeling too warm.

The couch dips a little as Daud leans over, and Corvo closes his eyes and exhales slowly when Daud’s lips touch his cheek. The hand that Daud had placed on his shoulder creeps back a bit, curling warmly around the back of his neck, and Daud’s other hand rests on Corvo’s knee, slowly running up and down his thigh. Daud kisses his cheek again, but retreats when Emily yawns loudly and squirms on Corvo’s lap to make herself comfortable.

Corvo gently strokes her back while she falls asleep, and when he’s sure her eyes are closed he turns his head as well and nudges his nose against Daud’s chin, feeling the man’s warm breath on his skin. The hand that is not cradling Emily slowly reaches out to touch Daud’s shoulder, and then Corvo lets his hand wander down Daud’s arm, feeling the bunched muscles under the thin fabric, and somehow his hand ends up on Daud’s thigh as well. It amazes him how _warm_ Daud is, radiating gentle heat, and Corvo feels Daud’s stuttering exhale as he presses his lips to his temple once more.

* * *

 

Daud isn’t sure whether what they do qualifies as kissing or not.

He is sure he likes it so much that it leaves him breathless with bliss, though.

They exchange soft, chaste presses of lips against each other’s cheeks and temples and foreheads, tentative and slow, as if carefully testing oven baked bread to see if it’s still too hot to eat.

Every time Emily stirs in Corvo’s lap, he cradles her close or rubs her back, refocusing his attention on her, and Daud doesn’t mind by all means. It’s what they are here to do, to take care of the girl, after all, and every time Corvo has made sure Emily is alright his lips return to Daud, and his hands keep roaming over Daud’s arms, thighs, ribs. Corvo’s palms feel like they’re burning right through Daud’s skin, and he indulges in the sensation, returning the touches. They never touch lips, though, never kiss the other on the mouth, and Daud wants it so badly he shivers with painfully suppressed arousal, but he won’t, not now.

Before the Fugue, Daud had technically made the decision to ask Corvo if he wants more than a platonic bond, whether he wants more than just cuddling and chaste touches. The mental image of him shoving Corvo onto the bed and kissing every last inch of his body until his soulmate comes apart with pleasure had been both utter torture as well as guilty bliss for Daud.

A part of him had wanted to be disappointed about the missed chance to ask Corvo, but now, though, with him pressed close against Corvo, feeling his lips on his cheek and his hands on his body, Daud realizes painfully that he couldn’t have been more wrong.

The realization had hit him after seeing the face Corvo had made when he had asked Daud about his decision to stay with them instead of screwing around outside on the streets. There was that incredibly worried insecurity in Corvo’s eyes, as if the mere thought of Daud sleeping with some random stranger was more than Corvo could handle, and the thankful, relieved smile when Daud had reassured him that he wouldn’t.

Everything that happens during the Fugue Feast doesn’t happen in reality. It’s considered a dream-like state by most people, nothing real, nothing meaningful, and nobody is considered responsible for their actions. Daud didn’t want that, he had suddenly realized, and even if Corvo would have said yes to his carefully planned advances, whatever they had done together on the Fugue evening wouldn’t have counted. The next morning, they could have shrugged it off as Fugue escapades and never think about it again. Daud suddenly feels that consuming worry that if Corvo had agreed it would have been only because of that reason, because it simply wouldn’t have meant anything.

Daud wants to ask Corvo outside the Fugue, when he can be sure that Corvo’s answer is genuine.

He wants whatever they agree on to count, even if it is a no.

With that in the back of his mind, Daud leans back into Corvo’s embrace, careful not to wake Emily, and kisses Corvo’s closed eyelids as his soulmate slowly drifts away into sleep in his arms.

* * *

 

“Lady Breanna, I have the dropper you asked me for.”

“Thank you, my dear Evie. Step back while I fill it up.”

The witch hands Breanna Ashworth the dropper and retreats immediately to evade the vicious thorns of the vine that whips and writhes like the cut-off tentacle of a squid.

Evie likes this room, it’s one of the prettiest their new friend has given them to play with the green ones. The expensive carpet is imported from Serkonos and the chandeliers under the impossibly high ceiling glitter and sparkle, making the mansion look almost like a palace, if a small one compared to the Tower, especially with all the beautiful ornate weapons decorating the walls.

Lady Breanna fills the dropper with a slightly glowing, orange substance from a glass beaker and approaches the large vine. The plant is one of many in the room, growing from pots, the pretty carpet around them pushed back so the earth doesn’t soil it. The handmaidens had been adamant about that, and the witches had complied.

Evie watches Breanna move closer to the vine, and if the Lady didn’t have the dropper with the orange liquid in her hands she would be afraid for her. Breanna raises her hand and flicks her wrist so that a splash of the liquid hits the vine, and the change happens impressively fast.

The vine jerks, a violent shiver runs through it, and then it turns brown and shriveled within a mere moment, lying dead and crumpled on the carpet. Breanna nods to herself, satisfied.

“This is good. It needs to work fast, and it’s vital to be able to come close to the plant without getting in touch with it,” she muses.

“My Lady, how can we manage that?”

“With a vaporizer, maybe. Like the ones we use for perfumes. What do you think, Evie?”

“A wonderful idea, My Lady. I used to have a perfume bottle that Delilah had given me, but I lost it in Brigmore. The young one has given me a new bottle, though, blue crystal from Tyvia.”

Breanna shoots Evie a chiding glance. “Be careful when you accept presents from them. Their gifts always come with expectations, even if they may claim otherwise.”

Evie nods, painfully reminded of what Breanna had been willing to do to grant their coven access to their pretty new home, among all the promises and plans they made together with their new friend.

“Lady Ashes, does he require you to share his bed tonight?” she dares to ask, and for a moment Evie is anxious that her bold question will be met with punishment. Breanna doesn’t react at first, though, and settles for loading up the dropper again with the orange liquid to test it on another vine, and this plant too dies away like a candle snuffed out in a strong breeze as soon as the substance touches it.

“I will, later. These experiments won’t finish themselves. It’s all to revenge our beloved Delilah, always keep that in mind.”

“I always do. Oh, and Catlyn told me lately that the little toad and the Empress’ shadow are sharing a bed. I thought you’d like to know.”

“That is good news. I just wish we had known earlier, it would have made getting our new home so much easier.”

“I agree, My Lady, I agree.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapters has content that some readers might find disturbing. If you're not sure if you want to read the chapter or not you can leave me a comment and I'll summarize the contents for you, and then you can decide whether you'd like to read it.

**XV.**

Dunwall Tower quickly returns back to its normal state during the days following the Fugue, but still Daud can’t shake the feeling that the tension hovering between him and Corvo has intensified to a point that feels almost painful, and that this feeling is mutual.

Whenever they fall asleep together, there are careful kisses and tentative touches, testing the waters in a way that drives Daud to the brink of his self control. He’s never kissed Corvo on the lips, not yet, but his urge to initiate that and everything that he hopes to follow it grows with every passing day. He’s not very experienced in judging the emotional state of another person, but with Corvo he has grown to believe that he can tell by his posture, by his smiles and the subtle changes in the speed of his breathing and heartbeat that Corvo feels the same about their intimacies as he does. If Daud is not entirely mistaken their relationship has long crossed the border between friends and partners, soulmates, and he pines to ask Corvo if he thinks the same about that.

There is still the matter of Daud’s past, because so far Corvo hasn’t forgiven Daud. At least not openly, not by telling him. Daud can’t blame Corvo, he really can’t, but a part of him starts to get the unshakeable feeling that Corvo’s obvious desire for closeness to his soulmate is something like a physical forgiveness, or at least the will to look past Daud’s guilt. Daud could be overinterpreting everything, he acknowledges wryly, but he’s so eaten up with pining for Corvo that it’s hard to ignore.

And then, about a week after the Fugue, Daud takes a look at his calendar and his mind is shattered to pieces.

He stands there, staring, unable to breathe, feeling numb and aching as if he got stabbed in the guts with a glowing knife. His hands tremble and his stomach plunges down into a bottomless pit, and he feels sick when he asks himself how in the Void he could have forgotten this date approaching.

The 18th day of the month of earth is only about ten days away.

The day Daud killed Jessamine.

The day Corvo’s life had been broken to pieces, initiated by Daud’s hand.

Daud recalls the last days in the Tower, and he curses himself when he remembers all the signs he had paid no mind to, but now that he thinks back on it he should have noticed much earlier. The loads of dark flowers that had been brought into the Tower, handmaidens and personnel wearing mournful expressions, blue curtains being exchanged with black ones. They are preparing Jessamine’s memorial day, and Daud had been so blind with his approaches to his soulmate that he had forgotten, and the sudden realization makes him fight the urge to destroy something.

Daud summons some of his men and sends them out, and then he takes a tour of the Tower himself, eavesdropping. He finds out that a celebration in Jessamine’s honor is planned on the day she got murdered. Daud recalls that when he had been appointed as Royal Spymaster, it had been a month after Jessamine’s first memorial, which brings up the question whether Corvo had done so on purpose. Had his soulmate tried to protect Daud by bringing him to the Tower after the memorial, knowing his appointment would never have been accepted with Jessamine’s memory still so very fresh? Or had Corvo simply not stood the thought of her murderer being present during the celebration, not able to bear Daud’s sight without all the deserved hate towards her murderer bubbling up again?

Daud is suffused with a burning feeling of guilt like he hasn’t felt in a year. Corvo had never openly forgiven him, and his heart feels like it’s bursting in his chest when he thinks about how close his soulmate had grown to him over the last months, causing Daud to become arrogant, assuming things had changed.

It had been so temptingly easy to discard his careful self-restraint over the past year, with Corvo seemingly returning Daud’s feelings to a point that almost caused Daud to initiate something he never dared to think about right after he’d learned who his soulmate was. Daud had become careless with himself, he realizes, and now the memory of what he’d done returns with full force like a gunshot to the back.

Daud expects Corvo to withdraw from him and is willing to accept it, because he deserves it, expects Corvo to shoot him looks of rekindled anger and hate and accusation, now that his deepest wound is being torn open again.

Strangely enough, though, Corvo surprises Daud again as it is his habit.

He knocks on Daud’s door, a few days before the memorial, and slowly walks into his quarters to sit on the edge of Daud’s bed, eyes dark as the night sky. Daud hesitates, almost can’t bear to look at Corvo without feeling like he’s being torn apart from inside, until Corvo pats the spot next to him, and Daud complies, joining his side.

Corvo doesn’t speak at first. He simply leans into him, and when Daud tentatively wraps him in his arms Corvo closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering exhale. Daud’s mind is desperately trying to come up with things he could say, anything, to let Corvo know just how sorry he is, but what good would that do? Every kind of apology he’d tried to come up with over time seems worthless and futile, and so Daud doesn’t even try, afraid to make it worse.

So he remains silent, and just holds Corvo, suffering.

After a long while, Corvo lifts his hands and signs. _I’m sorry to bother you while you’re working. Emily is very sensitive at the moment, understandably._

“It’s alright,” Daud comes back huskily, voice thick. He couldn’t possibly imagine how hard it is for Corvo to remain calm and grounded while his daughter is constantly being reminded of her mother’s death. Corvo is not allowed to let show what kind of relationship he’d had with Jessamine at any moment, never appearing too mournful to keep their former connection hidden. Keeping all that sorrow locked inside his core must be incredibly painful.

 _I can’t talk to anybody else about it. It’s difficult_ , Corvo signs, and Daud fights for composure, hugging Corvo a little tighter. His soulmate makes to sign again, his hands moving hesitantly as if he’s reluctant to ask.

 _Can I talk to you about Jessamine? I mean…_ Corvo pauses, hands hovering mid sentence, and looks at Daud with something apologetic in his eyes. _… I need somebody to talk to about it, and you’re the only one I trust. Please._

Daud realizes with a brief flare of anger that Corvo feels _guilty_ about asking this of Daud, as if he knew how much it pains Daud to be reminded of the biggest mistake he ever made in his life. How can Corvo even dare to apologize for _anything_ to Daud? Daud would do anything Corvo asks from him, whatever it may be, even if it tears him to pieces.

With his heart feeling like a lump of ice in his chest, Daud says: “Of course. I’ll listen.”

And Corvo talks.

He talks about Jessamine and how they met, how they got together in a flurry that had surprised the both of them, how Jessamine met her own soulmate once and never again, how Emily was born and how hard it was to get a hold of the rumors surrounding the mystery of her father.

Corvo visibly _needs_ this, he needs to get it off his chest. Keeping the load of his memories constantly locked up in his mind like a dark secret pains Corvo in an indescribable way, Daud realizes, and no matter how much it hurts to hear about how happy Corvo had been before Jessamine had died, he listens patiently while Corvo pours out his heart to him, and it’s slowly wrenching the blood from Daud’s own. It visibly helps to calm Corvo down when he lets the sorrow seep from him and indulges in positive memories, and Daud complies, as much as it hurts him.

Even though Daud had expected Corvo to avoid his presence to escape the constant memory of Jessamine’s assassination, he keeps close to him. Corvo often comes just to let Daud hold him, shaking in his arms with something so incredibly private on his face that Daud knows he’s the only person in the world to ever see Corvo like this. Daud realizes that Corvo seeks solace and comfort, and the mere fact that he chooses Daud for this is a burning pain in his guilt-ridden mind as well as a humbling, trembling sensation of undeserved honor, a consuming thankfulness that causes Daud’s desire for Corvo’s affection to return with full force. That sensation is warring with Daud’s own regret and the constant reminder of what he’d done, and every time Corvo’s beautiful eyes meet his he sees his own failure staring back at him.

The fact that Corvo seeks his closeness actively should, in theory, calm Daud’s brooding, but it does not.

At least, not at first.

As the day of the Empress’ death comes closer, Corvo’s visits increase in number. He rarely comes to talk his mourning from his mind now, and settles for seeking Daud’s comfort, pressing into his embrace and hiding his face in the curve of Daud’s neck as if he could block out the entire world, as if there’s only Daud keeping Corvo from sinking into an abyss of sorrow. Not a single time does it look like Corvo is angry with Daud, and the expected glares of accusation and hate fail to appear.

On the contrary, Corvo is so clingy and desperate for Daud’s closeness that Daud is only too happy to give him what he wants. He holds him, tentatively at first, and later wrapping him in strong arms as tightly as he possibly can, and Corvo returns it with equal vigor. They kiss sometimes, soft touches of lips on cheeks and temples, and the way Corvo’s breath hitches in his throat when Daud’s teeth nip at the skin of his neck and then his lips press to the reddened spot makes Daud sway between burning guilt and dizzy pleasure.

That guilt is slowly being pushed into the back of Daud’s mind the more Corvo signals him that he needs Daud close. There is always the shadow of Daud’s past looming above every one of his thoughts, but, and this agitates Daud in a way he could never put into words, he becomes sloppy. Careless.

Daud pointedly ignores the little voice in the back of his mind that tells him that he doesn’t deserve to touch Corvo. He ignores it when he presses his lips to Corvo’s warm neck and when he runs his fingers through his hair. After all, Corvo seems to be desperate for comfort and closeness, and he chooses Daud to give him just that, and in the end, Daud can’t ignore the burning wish anymore, the wish to make his soulmate happy, in any way he can.

The wish reaches a painful peak a day before the Empress’ memorial. Daud is sorting through books on a shelf next to his bed when Corvo comes in. As soon as Corvo kicks the door shut behind him, his entire demeanor changes rapidly. His tense, straight-backed posture relaxes, the line of his shoulders drops visibly and his lips stretch into a tired smile.

“Another session with the Watch?” Daud asks, knowing how much of the organization gets stuck with the Lord Protector and how much it eats at Corvo’s already strained nerves.

Corvo nods, and Daud smiles back when he sees Corvo’s stern expression melt away from him, the official, unrelenting mask he needs to wear every day at court, and how he allows himself to relax now that he’s alone with Daud.

Corvo walks over to Daud as he places another book in the gap between two others and makes to pick up the next one, but Corvo grabs his arm, stopping him. Daud turns his head, gauging Corvo’s mood from his expression, and even though his hair covers most of his face Daud knows his eyes are as dark as the Outsider’s. Corvo tugs on his arm, gentle but urgent, and Daud allows Corvo to drag him over to the bed. They sit on the edge, next to each other, and Daud, already well familiar with Corvo’s behavior, wraps him in a firm embrace, pressing him close.

It’s… not entirely strange, but still a little astounding how easily Daud falls into this routine. He knows by tiny details in Corvo’s body language what he feels and what he needs. Daud digs his fingers into Corvo’s hair, massaging his scalp to relax him, and stifles his own groan of pleasure at Corvo’s dreamy expression by pressing his lips against Corvo’s temple.

They sit, wrapped in each other’s arms, and the part of Daud’s mind that causes the mental image of Corvo’s dead expression after the Empress’ death rise in front of his inner eye becomes strangely silent when Corvo softly kisses his jaw.

Daud had been toying with the thought for a long time despite the searing guilt slowly eating its way through his chest, the thought that maybe the tension Corvo is radiating speaks of a shared wish for more than just chaste touches. Daud catches himself thinking about offering to comfort Corvo with everything he can give, and the mere audacity of the thought causes him to feel like a fire is burning inside him.

But what else can he do? Corvo signals him he needs solace and distraction to ease the pain on his mind, and Daud starts to think Corvo might actually be comfortable with being close to his soulmate in a way that involves less clothing and more of what they already do, shared heartbeat, shared breath and skin pressing on skin. Daud is painfully aware of the things standing between them, especially now that everything in the Tower reminds Corvo of the day his world had been ended, but Corvo seems to be willing to see past that. Daud would do anything for Corvo, would give him everything he could possibly give, and the burning wish to undress Corvo and make him come apart with pleasure is not only fanned by Daud’s own desire, but mostly by his genuine need to make Corvo happy.

And then, before Daud can talk himself out of it, he turns his head so that his lips brush over Corvo’s ear, and the hand Daud had placed on Corvo’s thigh inches closer towards his hips.

“Corvo…” Daud whispers huskily into Corvo’s ear, and bites his lip at the way Corvo shudders with pleasure. “How does that feel?”

 _Good_ , Corvo signs with his free hand. He doesn’t bother to open his eyes, slumped into Daud’s embrace and boneless with relaxation.

“Does it help you to wind down a little?” Daud breathes, barely audible.

Again, Corvo nods, and now he opens his eyes for a moment to return Daud’s gaze. His pupils are so wide his eyes are almost black, and he manages a smile that says more than his gestures ever could. He mouths _Thank you_ , and Daud presses a kiss at the corner of his lips.

“Of course. I’d do anything to take your mind off things.”

Daud’s thumb starts rubbing slow circles over Corvo’s thigh. Corvo responds with a brief, open-mouthed smile before his eyes fall shut again and he leans into Daud’s touch. Daud presses on before he can stop himself, his own desire taking over. He breathes against Corvo’s ear.

“ _Anything_. If you’ll only let me…” Daud whispers, and his hand inches up until it gently cups the throbbing bulge in Corvo’s pants.

Corvo flinches and his eyes flutter open immediately, and in the very same moment panic rises inside Daud because he _knows_ he just made a horrible mistake.

Corvo jerks away from him, eyes wide with shock. He hurries to bring some distance between Daud and him, and seeing the anxious, appalled expression on Corvo’s face causes a white-hot pain to sear through Daud’s chest worse than anything else he’d ever felt.

“Corvo…” Daud chokes out, reaching for his soulmate in a desperate attempt to fix what he just broke, but Corvo just shakes his head, reluctance and confusion mingling in his eyes, and with a blue flurry he is gone.

Daud stays behind, trembling.

* * *

 

Corvo walks and walks so fast that it almost counts as running, and the handmaidens arranging flower vases in the Tower corridors turn their heads when he rushes by. Corvo doesn’t care, not a single thought in his mind staying still long enough for him to get a grasp on it. There is a maelstrom of contradicting emotions rushing through his mind, and he doesn’t even know how he manages to reach the secluded safety of his quarters, but at some point he must have made it.

Corvo paces through his bedroom, only vaguely aware of his surroundings as he reflects on what just had happened.

Daud had offered to have sex with him.

And Corvo had declined.

_Why?_

Why in the Void had he left?

Corvo helplessly buries his face in his hands and grunts in frustration as he asks himself why he had fled Daud’s quarters in such a cowardly way. Despite every muscle in his body urging him to _run_ , Corvo forces himself to stand still for a moment, taking a deep breath against a painfully clenched ribcage, and another one, and a third.

Slowly, his stuttering heartbeat calms down, and Corvo blinks as he tries to arrange his swirling thoughts.

The answer is that Corvo doesn’t know. The tension between his soulmate and him had been building up for a very long time now, and every little touch, every suppressed groan of pleasure had led up to this moment, and Corvo should have been ready for it. By the Void, a part of him had even _hoped_ for it to happen. Then why had he declined so harshly?

When Corvo thinks more closely about it, he comes to the painful conclusion that he’s been scared, simple as that. Overwhelmed.

Corvo does, in theory, share Daud’s wish for more intimacy. As he had already found out over time, Corvo feels so very comfortable close to Daud, relaxed and trusting and _understood_ , and doing what Daud had offered him only seems like the next logical step. Still, Corvo can’t shake the feeling lurking in the back of his mind that sleeping with Daud would be a last betrayal of Jessamine, the woman he loved. Corvo thinks about all the times he had promised Jessamine that nothing would ever separate them, that all his love belonged to her. But Daud is his soulmate, and Corvo had been lonely for such a long time now that the desire for closeness and intimacy is eating him up from inside. Still, he is not sure whether he’s ready to move on and open himself to a new partner.

On the other hand, how many times had Corvo already caught himself thinking of Daud as the one person he could fully trust? He stopped counting long ago. He’d even toyed with the imagination of Daud being more for him than just a close friend, and if Corvo is very honest with himself Daud had already become much more than that long ago. Corvo is very well aware of the emotion warming up his chest when he thinks about Daud, but acknowledging that this emotion exists is still difficult.

Corvo sighs deeply and flops down on his bed. He hesitates for a moment, gaze fixed on the rim of a small chest hidden under the mattress. He’d ignored its existence for a long time, but now, with his mind reeling, he pulls out the chest and takes the small, warm object from it.

Holding the heart in his hands, Corvo stares at it as if it could give him the answers he needs.

It pulses slow and steady, and Corvo gently lets his fingers run along the leathery muscle, alive and dead at the same time. He remembers pointing it at Daud when he was watching his soulmate wallow in regret in the Chamber of Commerce, waiting for his doom to arrive, his judgment. Back then, Corvo had refused to believe that this man, the paid assassin, was his soulmate. The heart’s surprisingly positive words had startled Corvo from a confused anger that was more forced than real, a self-defense mechanism from Corvo’s battered mind protecting him from losing himself in the chaos.

The image of Daud’s expression when Corvo had stepped forward from the shadows, stricken and insecure about what to do with Daud, his soulmate, flickers up in his mind, eliciting a surge of sorrow in him. Daud had looked like he was ready to die, ready to accept whatever fate Corvo might decide for him. He had even stopped his men from interfering in their duel, even if they were ready to help him, and with their aid Daud would have won without a doubt. But he had stopped them, offering Corvo the opportunity to take his life if he wished, to take revenge.

“We are of the same breed, you and I. You think I’m your enemy? I never lied to you!” Daud had said to Corvo while their blades were clashing, and Corvo realizes that he was right.

Daud had never lied to him, and Corvo has trouble thinking of another person that he had ever trusted as genuinely as he trusts him. Frowning, Corvo gently strokes the heart, thinking of Daud and the sound of his hoarse, soft laughter, and the gears within the muscle buzz to life.

“Why have you brought me here? Am I meant to forgive this man for what he did?” the heart repeats the words it had uttered upon being brought to Daud, and Corvo finds himself contemplating the answer.

Daud had killed so many people for coin, killed Jessamine, but he had saved Emily, Corvo muses. A mere second later he huffs angrily and chides himself for tallying his soulmate’s past like this. Daud’s past is something he clearly left behind himself, and Corvo had understood long ago that he hadn’t needed to change himself to accomplish that, he simply had found something that had been buried deep inside him for too long, and now he’s desperate to make up for everything he did wrong, as best he can. Corvo is well aware that he is Daud’s highest priority in this, and it fills him with a humbling, touching feeling of warmth that causes him to clench his jaw painfully.

 “His hands do violence. But there is a different dream in his heart.”

 _Yes_ , Corvo thinks. _I know. There is something behind that barricade of his, something else._

Corvo had caused that barricade to shatter, slowly, bit by bit, and now, when Daud had finally offered him everything he could give, Corvo had learned what it was that Daud was hiding behind the steely wall of self-restraint. It was desire, and affection, and maybe even more than that.

Corvo squeezes his eyes shut. He wants to move on. He wants to feel loved again after two years of mourning. He has no more tears to shed, and while he will always have a spot in his heart reserved only for Jessamine, he longs to have someone in his life again that can help him to take the pain of his past away. It still feels like a betrayal to Corvo, like a disgraceful, selfish wish sullying Jessamine’s memory.

The heart pulses softly in his palms, and Corvo stares at it. Then he gently places it on the nightstand so that the front with the small fish-eye window faces him, and waits.

“Corvo. He’s the Royal Protector, but secretly, he’s much more to the Empress than that,” the heart whispers.

 _What am I supposed to do?_ Corvo asks the heart, his mind reeling from insecurity and desire alike.

The heart remains silent for a while, but then it buzzes to life again. “He thinks that only by suffering can he honor the past, but that will turn him cold and bitter, like a breath he’s been holding for too long.”

Corvo blinks as he lets the meaning of those words sink in. Does the heart mean him, or Daud? It could be both of them, Corvo realizes, and then a warm, fluttering sensation eases the painfully clenched knot in his stomach.

The heart wants him to move on, to be happy instead of letting the constant mourning turn him harsh and somber. Corvo takes a deep breath and cradles the heart in his hands again, his thoughts straying back to Daud. His soulmate might have contributed to Corvo’s downfall, but he had not known about their connection, never intentionally hurt him, unlike so many other people Corvo knew. When Corvo had been out to save the crumbling ruins of the Empire, his thoughts of revenge had circled around Burrows, Campbell and later the Loyalists, but never around Daud. Corvo knows Daud had already punished himself with his own regret and the risks he took to save Emily more than any judgment ever could.

Corvo doesn’t want Daud to suffer.

The image of Daud’s lopsided, half-mocking and half-affectionate smirk causes Corvo to smile and his heartbeat to quicken, and suddenly it’s so very easy to make a decision.

He needs to forgive Daud.

The realization fills him with a wave of gentle heat, and if feels like breathing out. When Corvo reflects on his own feelings, he realizes that any thoughts of anger or resentment have vanished from his heart long ago. He had already forgiven Daud without really noticing, but he had never mustered the courage to tell him. That was selfish and cruel of him, he realizes painfully. Corvo frowns when he remembers Daud’s terrified expression upon Corvo’s denial. He knows he just hurt Daud’s feelings in a horrible way, but he had been too overwhelmed to react differently.

Corvo should have said yes.

He feels much more than just comfortable with the intimacies they have exchanged so far, and a powerful flush is heating up his chest when he recalls how easily he melts away under Daud’s fingers, rough and gentle at the same time. A part of him still feels insecure about agreeing to Daud’s offer, though. It’s not so much that Daud is a man, even if that matter is something that still makes Corvo a bit nervous. It’s that he doesn’t really know how sex works between two males. He does have a certain image of it, though, but that is heavily influenced by the twisted, stigmatized picture the Abbey draws of homosexual couples, which is surely wrong in so many ways. Still it’s the only image Corvo has, and it’s not exactly helping to ease his nervousness.

He wants it so much, though, and if it’s something his soulmate is willing to offer, Corvo will give it a chance.

 _What about you?_ He asks the heart. The heart remains quiet for a while as if contemplating the answer, but then it glows softly.

“One of your strongest virtues is the ability to forgive. It kept you sane in the chaos and saved the City I loved so much. I… I admire you for it.”

Corvo takes a moment to think about the heart’s words, and then a slow smile stretches his lips when he realizes it agrees with him. Corvo presses a kiss to the heart and gently places it back in the chest to push it under the bed, inwardly thanking it.

Corvo stands up and takes a deep breath.

Decision made, he walks back to Daud’s quarters.

* * *

 

Daud stands in front of the window and stares out at the setting sun as Dunwall is slowly eaten up by a growing shroud of shadows. He stares until his eyes water, but he doesn’t see anything. All of his senses are dull and a haze fills his vision, his ears drowning from his own heartbeat as if he’s under water.

Corvo said no.

Of course he did.

Why had Daud even dared to expect a different answer?

When his second in command shows up in his office, Daud barely reacts to his greeting, mind reeling from a numbing, searing pain that clamps down around his ribcage, making it impossible to breathe. He faintly hears Thomas speaking, but he can’t muster the concentration to listen.

“Sir? Did you hear me?” Thomas asks, his words sounding muffled.

“Repeat that,” Daud orders gruffly, forcing himself to focus on what he’s saying.

“Erm… Sir, I said Anthony almost managed to capture one of the witches. She moved into the direction of the large mansions where the Estate District touches the Tower premises. He tried to get a hold of her, but didn’t see that she was armed. Anthony suffered a fleshwound from her blade, and she fled. He’s not too badly injured and will recover quickly, but in his state he wasn’t able to follow her.”

Daud manages a nod.

_He declined. He doesn’t want you. Why did you even dare to hope, you pathetic fool?_

“Anything else?”

“He reported that the witch didn’t wear one of those bone-blades we saw them wield back in Brigmore. She carried a large, gilded sword, studded with gemstones. It looks like something a noble might use to decorate a wall, an ornate piece to show off, not to fight. It supports the assumption you made when you suggested the witches hiding in an upper class mansion close to the Tower, but we couldn’t find out which one yet.”

Daud nods again, filing the information somewhere in a corner of his mind that is not reeling with pain and humiliation. He thought they had been ready. He thought their relationship had crossed that fragile border between friends and partners.

“Master Daud, is anything wrong?” Thomas asks carefully, sounding worried.

Daud doesn’t answer for a long moment, and Thomas cocks his head, his posture tensing up.

“Master?”

“Thomas, what would you have done if Corvo had killed me?” Daud asks without looking at him, his voice merely a whisper.

The question takes Thomas aback, and he blinks rapidly.

“Sir… I don’t understand. Corvo is your soulmate, I’m sure that was never his intention,” Thomas says, but he doesn’t sound entirely certain.

“And what if he had? What would you have done? Disbanded the Whalers and moved on?”

Now, his second in command’s confused expression morphs into something fearful, but Daud doesn’t care.

“Master… Why are you asking me that?”

Daud doesn’t even know himself. He turns away, shaking his head. He waves his dismissal at Thomas, and his second in command shoots him one last, worried glance before he makes to open the window.

“Daud… Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Leave.”

“I… Very well, Master.”

Daud stares back out at the rising night, only faintly aware of the window closing as Thomas disappears, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

How stupid he had been.

For a while, he had actually assumed that Corvo would be willing to see past all the horrible things Daud had done to him. For a while, he had even hoped for forgiveness. Daud curses himself to the Void for even thinking about this outrageous audacity. The image of Corvo’s confused, appalled expression following Daud’s offer, and the pain it had planted in Daud’s heart burns and burns until he’s feeling like his inside are being turned to ash.

Corvo doesn’t want him in that way.

How could Daud even think of hoping for more than simple tolerance? He should have been happy that Corvo allowed him to remain by his side. He should have been weeping with thankfulness that Corvo allowed him to kiss his cheek, to hold him close. It should have been enough, more than enough. It is more than Daud ever deserved. But no, in his endless, selfish greed, he had let go of his careful self-restraint, he had forgotten to control his pathetic desires, and now there’s another horrible mistake to be added to the endless tally. Daud had managed to drive his soulmate even further away from him.

If he had only been a little more subtle, waited longer with his audacious advances, Corvo might have had the chance to signal his decline, but no, Daud had to be Void-bent on getting his own way, and he had hurt his soulmate, again. Daud had thought he could live with a refusal, keep the platonic bond up, but after he’d seen the wounded, shocked expression on Corvo’s face he’s sure his soulmate doesn’t want to have him near him at all anymore. Void, Daud had asked Corvo whether he wants to fuck while he was mourning the woman Daud murdered in cold blood. Daud squeezes his eyes shut when he thinks of his own ridiculous feelings, how sure he had been that he had even the ghost of a chance. Daud had been so sure that Corvo returned his feelings, but he had been wrong.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

How is Corvo supposed to forgive him for _that_?

Daud had turned Corvo’s life into hell, and all the things he did, the meaningless little smiles he had elicited on Corvo’s lips, none of it is remotely enough to make up for a fraction of what Daud had done.

Daud killed his soulmate’s only love. How can he even dare to believe anything he did might change Corvo’s mind?

He suddenly asks himself whether Corvo ever regretted the choice he made, whether he ever wished he had ended Daud’s life after their duel. Daud draws his sword and stares at the cold steel as if it can give him an answer, seeing his reflection staring back at him, the face of a murderer.

The blade is shiny, cold, clean.

It’s a lie.

Daud might have tried to make amends, to change his ways and stop killing, to _apologize_ , but what good did it do? I wasn’t enough to mend the bleeding wound he had torn in Corvo’s heart. Nothing ever will be.

Daud holds the blade in his hand, and his reflections shivers when he grips it so hard that his arm trembles from pain and exhaustion, his heart smashing against his ribcage, his vision blurred but for the cold, gray eyes staring back at him. Those eyes belong to the Knife of Dunwall, no matter how much he tries to cleanse his sword. The clean, sheer blade should be covered in blood, covered in the blood of Jessamine Kaldwin, wielded by Daud, the person who destroyed his soulmate’s life.

It’s a lie. A filthy, pathetic lie.

There should be blood on his blade.

And suddenly, there is.

Daud blinks, all of his thoughts sluggish and slow as if his mind is filled with honey. He stares at the blood on the blade, staining the steel a vivid red, and then his eyes move to the wrist of his left hand. There is a deep cut running across his wrist, blood pooling out in a thick, pulsing current. It trickles to the tiled floor, making a soft sound when the droplets hit the cold stones. Daud sways, blinking to keep his eyes open. He doesn’t feel the pain from the cut. His entire body aches from a directionless, omnipresent pain that squeezes any feeling from his heart, making him feel numb, nauseous and burning at the same time. He watches his right hand move, watches as he draws his blade across his left wrist again, watches the sickening current of blood well up to mingle with the other, the dark red puddle on the floor growing bigger.

His blade is covered in blood. _Yes_. That’s how it’s supposed to be. The blade of a murderer.

Daud stares at the blood welling from his wrist, and his vision blurs. The sharp pain rocketing through his legs when his knees hit the stone barely registers. Daud supports himself on the sword he’s still holding, steel wedged between the tiles, his knees stained by his own blood pooling on the floor. He stares at his bleeding wrist, blinking, and the deep, deep red slowly turns to black.


	16. Chapter 16

**XVI.**

There are voices around Daud, muffled and soft. When they arrive at his ears they sound filtered, as if he’s wrapped in wool.

Daud doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know whether he’s dreaming or awake. Everything is dark. His eyes still squeezed shut, he wants to clench his left hand into a fist, feeling the surge of magic rocketing through his veins to drag himself back into consciousness.

He can’t move his fingers.

Instead, there is a sharp pain lancing up his arm as if he just dipped his hand in burning oil. Daud hurries to relax his hand again, and slowly, the pain causes a vague memory to emerge in his tired mind.

He remembers guilt, regret, anger. Burning anger, but not about somebody else. About himself. He remembers the sight of his blade, covered in blood after he had drawn it across his own wrist.

Daud’s brows furrow when the memory hits him.

_What has he done…?_

He desperately tries to arrange his thoughts, but they escape him in the same moment he attempts to grasp them, and so he stops his futile efforts, letting himself sink back into darkness. Everything is exhausting. He focuses on what he can feel, instead. Daud is lying down on a soft surface, covered in a thick, warm something. The voices around him become clearer when he concentrates, and eventually he understands them, even though they sound like he’s lying in warm honey.

“Has he woken up in between?”

“No, not a single time. It’s been almost two days, now. But his breathing is constant, and his heartbeat stable.”

“Where’s Attano?”

“He left for court about half an hour ago. I’m sure he’ll return soon. He hasn’t left Daud’s side for more than an hour for the entire time.”

Everything hurts, and Daud’s head swims.

Thomas and Misha? Maybe.

“Who hurt Daud like that? I want to know! Who did this?”

“Your Highness, I… We assume it was an accident.”

Kieron, sounding sad.

“But _how_? I want Daud to wake up! Make him healthy again! I demand it!”

Emily, young and utterly confused and on the brink of crying.

Somehow, by mustering all of his willpower and strength, Daud latches onto the sound of Emily’s voice and pulls himself out of the bleary, confusing darkness. He manages a grunt, and after that his eyes flicker open. He hurries to close them again, blinded by the sudden light.

“Thomas! He’s waking up.”

“ _Daud_!”

Daud’s breath is suddenly pushed out of his lungs when a compact weight plunges onto his belly and throws itself against his chest. Emily wraps her thin arms around Daud and hides her face in the curve of his neck, and he can feel her tears on his skin as well as her smile.

“Daud… Oh, my poor Daud.”

Daud wraps his good arm around Emily to press her small, shaking form against his chest. Her knees are digging painfully into his stomach and she’s pulling on his hair, but Daud wouldn’t ask her to move for the world. He makes a soothing sound, presses a kiss against her hair and rubs circles over her back with his right hand.

“I’m alright, Emily,” he rasps even if he’s not, his throat raw from his long unconsciousness. Emily withdraws a little to look at him, and her smile turns into a genuine frown again.

“Who hurt you like this? I’ll put them in prison right away!” she says firmly.

Daud slowly feels his memories returning, and it makes the pain in his left arm even more prominent. He carefully looks up and sees Misha and Thomas, and judging by the worried expressions on their faces they know exactly _what_ had happened, but not _why_ , and they are incredibly afraid for the life of their leader. Kieron steps forward and gently pries Emily from Daud’s chest.

“Daud needs a lot of rest now, your Highness. You can visit him again later.”

“Oh. Alright. See you then, Daud. Get well soon!”

Emily’s big, worried eyes meet Daud’s once more, and he presses his lips to her forehead in an attempt to calm her down before she slips from the bed. Emily sniffs and smiles, and Daud somehow manages to twitch up the corners of his lips into something like a halfhearted smile too. Emily doesn’t look too convinced, but she accepts Kieron’s outstretched hand and lets herself be guided away, turning again to shoot Daud another tear-stained glance. Daud pushes himself up into a more upright position and immediately winces at the sharp pain rocketing up his left arm.

“Don’t move, Sir,” Misha hurries to say. Daud hisses and leans back against the pillow, already feeling exhausted from the simple motion.

“Please tell me I’m not in Sokolov’s infirmary.”

“No, Sir. You are in your own quarters. Jenkins and Marco took care of you. Luckily Lord Attano found you in time, gave you some first aid and immediately alerted us. It was… It was close.”

Daud nods and closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a sigh of relief. He has to admit that there are worse physicians than Sokolov, but the old Tyvian is still moving in the higher circles of Dunwall society, and the last thing Daud can use now are any court members catching wind of his… of what he did.

“How bad is it?” he wants to know, lifting his left hand a little to inspect it. It is wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, the fingers included so that he can’t move them.

“Well, you lost a lot of blood. But while you were… cutting, you were incredibly precise, conveniently so. No severed sinews, all clean cuts. Your fingers will work just fine after you’ve healed, and the damage could be fixed,” Thomas says.

“Reflexes,” Daud mutters quietly, but his thoughts are racing, _screaming_ at him.

What has he done?

Had he tried to kill himself?

Daud had been in a daze, blurry and worn out by anger and a current of confusion and all of it had been just _too much_ , too much pain, too much regret, too much _everything_. He barely remembers what had happened after that monstrous fortress of emotions had collapsed over his head, burying him in darkness.

As if Thomas had read his mind, he carefully and gently says: “Sir, I don’t want to ask you for explanations now, but… we need to know. This won’t happen again, will it?”

Daud rakes his hand across his face and sighs. “No, it won’t. I was… I wasn’t myself.”

Thomas nods, still looking worried. “Master… And _why_ did it happen?”

Daud struggles for an answer, but in that very instant the doors to his quarters fly open and Corvo rushes in.

The look on Corvo’s face when their eyes meet – fear, incredulous sadness and a horrible guilt – will burn itself into Daud’s mind for the rest of his life, and it’s almost enough to break Daud all over again. He’s incredibly thankful that Thomas immediately leaves the room with Misha in tow.

A mere second later Corvo is by Daud’s side on the edge of the bed, pressing his forehead against Daud’s and gently cupping his face with trembling hands, running his fingers through Daud’s hair and over his cheeks as if he needs to make sure with all his senses that Daud is still alive. Daud struggles for words, but everything he could possibly say dies in his throat when Corvo chokes out a soft sob.

And then he breaks into tears.

Corvo’s large frame trembles with barely audible sobs in Daud’s arms, clutching to his soulmate as if he was a lifeline, his warm tears running down Daud’s skin. Daud just holds onto him with equal desperation, feeling Corvo’s ragged breaths against his neck, and runs his good hand over Corvo’s back.

“Corvo, I…” Daud murmurs helplessly into Corvo’s hair next to his cheek, but Corvo immediately shushes him by pressing a finger to his lips. He looks up, eyes stained with tears, and they radiate such a burning guilt that all of Daud’s thoughts are scattered violently.

Corvo’s hands briefly cup Daud’s face before they sign, clumsily and shivering.

_I did this to you._

Daud shakes his head, unbelieving. “Corvo, no…”

 _I did this to you. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry_ , Corvo repeats, and then his eyes close again, brimming with tears, and he presses his face against Daud’s chest, trembling. Daud fights for composure, because it’s _not_ Corvo’s fault, it’s his own, and Corvo is the last person in the world that owes him an apology. Corvo believes that his refusal had driven Daud to hurt himself like he did, Daud realizes painfully. In a way that is true, but Daud had never wanted to scare his soulmate like this, never expected Corvo to blame himself for something Daud did in an emotional breakdown. Nothing matters now, not his injury and not what he did, all that matters is telling Corvo that it’s not his failure, and Daud struggles for a way to let him know.

“Corvo, it was _not_ your fault,” he says, quietly but firmly. “Please, believe me. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Corvo shakes his head, his eyes welling up again.

_I can’t lose you._

“Corvo…”

_I can’t. Don’t leave me, please._

Daud feels like his heart is breaking. He returns Corvo’s trembling touch and pulls him close and holds onto him as firmly as he possibly can. He waits until Corvo’s ragged breathing has slowed down a little, then he runs his good hand through Corvo’s hair, causing him to lift his gaze until their eyes meet.

“I swear it won’t ever happen again. I won’t ever leave you, I promise. And I’m sorry for… you know. Asking you. I should never have rushed things like that, and my timing couldn’t possibly have been shittier.”

Corvo looks up and sniffs. He shakes his head, overwhelmed with sorrow.

_I’m sorry I just ran away like I did. I was overwhelmed. I should have known not to hurt you like that. I’m so sorry._

Daud presses his lips to a tight line, because some part of him is slowly breaking when Corvo sounds like he didn’t make up his mind after his refusal, but that doesn’t matter now. Comforting Corvo is all that matters, chasing that horrible sorrow from his eyes.

 _Did you try to kill yourself?_ Corvo signs with hands that shake so badly Daud can barely understand the gestures.

Daud blinks as he tries to remember what exactly he had felt during his breakdown, but he comes to the conclusion that he had _not_ , not in a single moment tried to end his life, at least not willingly, and he hurries to explain himself.

“No, I never wanted to. I’m so sorry, Corvo, I was just… I wasn’t myself. I was confused, and so fucking frustrated, with Jessamine’s memorial and… everything came back to me. It was too much. I… Please don’t blame yourself. This will never happen again, I promise. And please tell Emily it was an accident or something, I don’t want her to worry.”

Corvo nods, but he still looks like he’d switch places with Daud if he could, his beautiful dark eyes drowned in guilt. Corvo gently takes Daud’s left hand in his and runs his fingers over the bandages. Then he inclines his head and kisses Daud’s wrist, slowly and reverently, pressing his lips to Daud’s injured hand over and over again.

 _I can’t lose you too_ , he signs before taking Daud’s hand in his again, and a surge of pain flares up inside Daud’s heart when he lets the meaning of Corvo’s words sink in. The pain subsides quickly, leaving him sore and touched and utterly thankful.

“I won’t ever leave you, Corvo.”

Another tear-stained nod from Corvo. They fall silent for a while, holding hands as reverently as if it’s the first time they muster the courage to do so.

“I missed Jessamine’s memorial, didn’t I? I’m sorry if I spoiled that day for you,” Daud says quietly, suddenly remembering what had caused this mess in the first place.

Corvo looks up and reaches out to cup Daud’s cheek while his other hand still gently holds Daud’s left. He shakes his head and manages a soft smile.

_It was a nice celebration._

Daud nods slowly. The shine in Corvo’s eyes changes, all of a sudden, and he visibly takes a deep breath as if he’s preparing himself for something very important, and then his hands move.

Corvo points to himself, brushes his fingertips over the length of his other palm twice, and points at Daud, something incredibly solemn on his face. The hint of a smile tugs at his lips and his dark eyes brim with tears again, and Daud’s heartbeat violently stutters to a stop when he understands.

_I forgive you._

“Corvo…” Daud whispers helplessly, and reaches out for him. Corvo immediately complies and they lie in each other’s arms, holding onto each other as if the contact is all that keeps them from sinking. The entire situation is a horrible clusterfuck of pain and regret and sorrow, but somehow, despite or maybe because of the absolute rock bottom they are at, Corvo’s apology, his touch and his _forgiveness_ manage to drag Daud back up, and Corvo with him, and every inch of his aching body feels like it’s melting from a bright, gentle heat settling itself deep inside his core.

Daud tries to make sense of what he’s feeling right now, but he couldn’t possibly wrap his mind around it even if he tried, and so he simply holds his shaking soulmate close. Slowly, ever so slowly, the thought settles itself in Daud’s chest, and burns like a fire inside him, burns away the shadows of his past and leaves him trembling with a warm, humbling thankfulness that consumes him entirely.

Corvo forgives him.

Daud suddenly hears a strange sound, a soft, hoarse laugh, and realizes it’s his own. He chuckles, incredulous with joy, and Corvo pulls back a little to look at him. Corvo’s lips stretch into a touched smile, cheeks still smeared with tears, and Daud is very much aware that they probably both look absolutely disastrous, but he’s so happy that he can’t bring himself to care.

_I forgave you long ago. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier._

Corvo lowers his hands and Daud reaches up with his good hand to wipe a stray tear from Corvo’s cheek while staring into those deep, deep eyes, and Corvo stares back at him.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s so very easy to close the distance between them.

Their lips meet, finally, and it’s like Daud had been waiting for this to happen since he first learned he had a soulmate, like finally being able to exhale after holding his breath for almost a year. Their first kiss is slow and innocent, as if they are both too overwhelmed to do anything but marvel at the softness of the other’s lips. After a long moment Daud withdraws a little to look at Corvo, gauging his reaction upon having kissed a man. Corvo does look astonished for a moment, eyes wide, but then he smiles and leans in to kiss him again.

Their kiss is chaste and careful, and Daud almost wants to laugh because he is everything but chaste and careful. All of his other kisses during his lifetime were a biting, saliva-coated mess, teeth and blood, reminding the other of the predator Daud is - _was_ , he corrects himself -, but that’s not what Daud does here, and it’s not what he wants with his soulmate either. Still, as gentle and soft as their kiss is, it feels so wonderful and he’s been pining for it to happen for so long that it makes his blood boil, fanning the embers of his suppressed desires back to life. Daud fists his good hand in Corvo’s hair, pulling him closer and urging him on. Corvo responds in kind, fingers raking roughly through Daud’s hair, and the innocence slowly turns intoxicating. Daud nips at Corvo’s lower lip and before he can stop himself he’s trying to lick his way into Corvo’s mouth.

He doesn’t push his tongue in far, just gently brushing it against Corvo’s lips, but it’s enough to make Corvo flinch and withdraw.

“Fuck, sorry Corvo. I forgot for a moment,” Daud hurries to say, suddenly remembering Corvo’s missing tongue. He can imagine Corvo hates having another person’s tongue in his mouth without being able to do anything about it, and Daud is anxious that Corvo disliked it. To his great relief, Corvo just smiles and shakes his head.

_As long as you don’t push your tongue in all the way it’s alright with me._

Daud blinks. “Are you sure?”

Corvo nods and eagerly leans forward, and Daud complies only too happily. This time, Corvo opens his lips slightly to allow Daud to deepen the kiss a little more, and upon tasting Corvo’s mouth Daud groans with pleasure. He bites and growls and presses him on and by the Void, Corvo responds as if he means it, palms cupping Daud’s jaw, and Daud feels Corvo’s moan against his mouth more than he hears it. His good hand rakes through Corvo’s hair, fisting in the soft strands, and the way Corvo groans when he pulls causes a violent shiver to run down Daud’s spine. It’s absolutely breathtaking, and Daud feels like he could keep doing this for the rest of his life, like it could make him forget everything that ever caused him pain.

They do stop, eventually, more out of necessity for air than anything else. Corvo blinks and smiles as if he can’t quite believe what had just happened, and Daud shares the sentiment, but he can’t bring himself to care. Instead he reaches up and runs his hand down Corvo’s face, and Corvo closes his eyes and leans into the touch like a stray cat, hungry for the contact.

“Corvo… I’m so sorry I took you aback with my stupid offer. I shouldn’t have rushed things like that,” Daud says quietly even if reminding himself of Corvo’s refusal puts a damper on his own euphoria, but he feels that he needs to let Corvo know he didn’t mean it badly. “We can keep up the platonic bond like we did so far if that’s what you prefer. As long as you will keep me by your side, I’m happy with it.”

To his utter surprise, Corvo frowns and shakes his head. His hands move, and Daud understands the gestures, but he can’t quite trust his eyes.

_Don’t apologize. I should have said yes. I don’t want a platonic bond anymore, I want this._

And Corvo darts forward, hands warm on Daud’s cheeks, and kisses him with an eagerness that causes Daud to struggle for composure. A part of him refuses to believe Corvo’s words, refuses to believe that he can have Corvo’s kisses and his touches and _more_ , but Daud just firmly tells his own mind to shut up, and instead enjoys the moment to its fullest.

When Corvo withdraws again, he leaves Daud in a blissful stupor.

“Corvo… Are you sure?”

Corvo nods, determination in his eyes _. I thought about it a long time now. Too long. Jessamine always insisted that she’d want my soulmate to be with me, so she’d be okay with us, I know it. She’d wish for me to be happy. I want to move on. I want you._

His hands hover in mid air for a moment before they keep moving, and Daud is glad he doesn’t have to answer, because he’s not sure if he can trust his voice.

 _About that…_ , Corvo signs, _I admit I’m still a little insecure_. He averts his gaze, looking slightly ashamed and nervous. Daud feels a pang of sympathy, because the mere thought of sleeping with a man must be something so new for Corvo that it’s like a first time all over again, Daud can imagine. Still, Corvo had _kissed_ him, and if he’s okay with trying new things like that he seems to be okay with other things as well. In any case, Daud won’t do anything that Corvo doesn’t want, and he hurries to let him know.

“It’s alright,” Daud says softly, taking one of Corvo’s hands in his. “We don’t have to rush anything. I promise that I won’t let anything happen that makes you feel uncomfortable, and you can set the pace. We’ll take it slow and wait for the right moment. When my hand is fine again, preferably.”

Corvo laughs, and takes Daud’s bandaged hand. He presses his lips against his injured wrist, something utterly thankful in his eyes. Daud scoots a little to the side and lifts the blanket, inviting Corvo to join him.

_What about your men? They will know._

“Well, I guess I owe them an explanation. Also they’ve probably already seen us kissing with their Void Gaze, so that’s that. Get your ass in here, I’m getting chilly,” Daud replies, and Corvo kicks off his boots and throws his coat over a chair before he slips under the blanket as well, pressing close to Daud to keep him warm.

A few moments later, somebody knocks on the door and upon Daud’s gruff answer Thomas comes in with Misha, Jenkins, Rulfio and Marco in tow, the latter carrying a leather bag with medical supplies.

“Marco wants to check on the stitches, Master,” Thomas says politely, and Daud has to give him credit for not even moving a muscle when he spots Corvo in bed next to him.

Daud grunts and stretches out his aching arm for Marco to inspect it, and Jenkins reaches into the bag to assist him. Both of them don’t dare to ask about Corvo. Misha stands at the foot of the bed next to Rulfio, fidgeting nervously, and after a few minutes of tense silence she growls in frustration and rips off her mask.

“Alright, if nobody else is going to address the whale in the room, I’ll do it. What the fuck has gotten into you, Master, and what was that making out with Attano about? What the fuck is going on? I don’t get it!” she blurts, and the other Whalers freeze immediately in their motion, eyeing Daud with horrified expressions.

Thomas shoots Misha an accusing glare, but she just shrugs stubbornly. “What? He’s lying in Daud’s bed, or am I seeing things?”

Daud sighs, and every gruff comeback he might have had in mind melts away when he feels Corvo pressing closer. One of his hands is being enveloped by Corvo’s under the blanket, warm and firm, as if he wants to give Daud courage. He knows he needs to let his men know they don’t have to worry for him, and also about the bond he’d been hiding for way too long.

“Corvo is my soulmate,” Daud says eventually, with a firm voice, and realizes that he’s saying it with pride. “With all the memories coming back around the late Empress’ anniversary, I was… I was beside myself for a while. But we’ve sorted it out, Corvo and I. I’m back to myself again.”

The assembled Whalers stare at Daud in utter astonishment, their gazes flicking back and forth between Daud and Corvo, and Daud can almost _hear_ the gears of their thoughts grinding as they let the sheer momentousness of Daud’s words sink in. Thomas already knew, so he doesn’t share his comrades’ astonishment, but in the faces of the others Daud can see realization dawning as they _understand_ just how complex and confusing the entire situation had been, and how much emotional pressure had been behind it. How much it must have pained Daud for a very long time.

“Oh… That explains a damn lot,” Misha comments when she gets back to her senses.

“I knew it first,” Thomas pipes up.

“ _What_? And why didn’t you tell us?” Jenkins wants to know.

“You could have asked.”

“Master… Are you sure you’re alright again?” Rulfio wants to know.

Daud sighs, trying to sound less tired than he is to convince the men they don’t have to worry. “I am. I swear. I fear you are stuck with me for a little longer. Make sure to let the others know. No reason to open the whiskey reserves yet.”

That actually causes Jenkins to giggle and earns Daud a relieved, lopsided smirk from Rulfio. The Whaler bows and leaves, following his Master’s order, and Daud knows he’ll manage to convince the others that things will get back to normal, more or less, now that they know about everything.

“Fuck, and I thought the boss just found Attano had a nice ass when he kept staring at him during the ball night,” Misha comments dryly, and Daud bristles. He considers putting their bickering to an end, but he can feel Corvo’s warm frame shake as he chuckles, and Daud finds he’s beyond caring. He just lets himself sink back against Corvo, who presses a kiss against his temple.

“Just try to move the hand as little as possible, Master,” Marco orders, and Daud reluctantly opens his eyes again. He nods his assent and turns to Thomas and Misha.

“Orders remain the same as before. Make sure you catch the witches the next time you stumble upon them. Jenkins, tell Anthony he did well, but next time he lets himself get cut up by a Brigmore lunatic he’ll answer to me. He’s fucking lucky I’m indisposed at the moment.”

“I’ll tell him to be more careful,” Jenkins says.

“I can yell at him a little if that helps,” Misha offers.

Daud grunts in response, suddenly feeling bleary and tired again. His eyes threaten to fall shut, and Thomas ushers the other Whalers from Daud’s quarters, leaving Daud and Corvo alone.

Corvo wraps him in his arms and presses his nose into Daud’s hair and holds him so tightly as if he’s still afraid Daud might be taken away from him one way or another, and only his firm embrace can keep him by his side. Daud lets himself sink into the embrace, welcoming the leaden tiredness that slowly suffuses him, and while he falls asleep with Corvo’s heart beating in time with his own, the words echo in his mind, over and over again.

_I forgive you._

* * *

 

Daud remains in bed for a few more days, on Marco’s suggestion. His hand heals fast with the excellent elixirs bought from the Royal Physician, but Daud still feels a little shaky and Corvo insist on him resting. It’s utterly touching how much Corvo fusses about Daud’s injury, but Daud doesn’t mind. Even if he brusquely shoos Corvo away when he tries to feed Daud with broth, inwardly he’s so thankful that it almost hurts.

Daud finds out that Corvo told Emily Daud was upset and didn’t pay attention while shaving, cutting himself with the razor. Emily believes it, luckily, but she shows up in Daud’s quarters and he gets a good telling-off by her about being more careful. She does so with all the concerned outrage a daughter is able to muster, and Daud is so touched that he doesn’t mind, because he had come to acknowledge that he means much more to Emily than he had thought, and that feeling is mutual. When Daud promises her with a handshake that he’ll take care, he genuinely means it.

Empress Emily Kaldwin visits several times a day if she can manage, reporting to Daud about all the more or less exciting things he’s missed in court. Sometimes she brings him the little berry cakes she likes so much, and even if Daud is not into something so drowned with sugar he accepts them thankfully, knowing that the cakes are what manages to cheer up Emily whenever she’s ill, and the gesture is melting Daud’s heart. Each evening, she flops down on the edge of the bed next to Daud and reads stories for him, insisting that it’s her who reads. Every time she does so, Emily manages to fall asleep from her own reading way before Daud, curled up in a ball with her head on his stomach. The first time Corvo had discovered a slightly disgruntled Daud with a little Empress fast asleep on his chest without being able to do anything about it, Corvo had had such fit of laughter that Daud had chucked a pillow at him. Corvo had gently pried Emily from Daud to bring her to bed, only to return shortly after to join Daud under the blanket.

They sleep like they have always slept when sharing a bed, huddled closely together and tangled in each other’s arms, but from now on, things feel different. It’s as if an invisible wall had been torn down, and there’s nothing left standing between them besides the thin layer of cloth on their skin. Daud and Corvo kiss until their eyes fall shut, and Daud revels in the taste of Corvo’s lips and the feeling of his prickly skin against his own. The best thing about this is that Corvo seems to enjoy it just as much, making desperate little sounds at the back of his throat when he pulls Daud’s face closer to him to kiss him back, and the way Corvo’s breath hitches when Daud bites his lower lip is driving him wild.

After a few more days, Daud feels ready to leave his bed, eager to get his muscles back moving. He goes back to work and training as if nothing has changed. A part of Daud had been worried that some of his men would leave, considering his accident a sign of weakness, but they don’t. This is probably not only because of Rulfio’s talent of speech but also because of the fact that the Whalers who stayed after Daud’s departure were the most loyal men he ever had in his ranks. Considering how many of the ones that doubted Daud’s qualities as a leader back then after Billie’s betrayal didn’t stay after Daud left, he knows he can trust the ones that chose to stay, and their loyalty fills Daud with a humbling thankfulness that only spurs his will to give them a purpose. His Whalers, relieved to know their leader is alright, react to Daud’s returned eagerness with doubled efforts and the hunt for the witches goes on, as well as the training of recruits as spies.

One thing has changed significantly, though. Not an hour passes without Daud thinking about Corvo’s agreement to his offer, and the time it takes for Daud to heal builds up a tension between them that verges on the edge of painful, fanning Daud’s desires like nothing else before. He’s waiting, impatiently, but he’s sworn to himself that he’ll allow Corvo to signal him he’s ready.

Finally, Jenkins and Marco decide that the bandage around Daud’s left wrist can be removed.

Daud is finally allowed to get his hand wet again and immediately uses the opportunity to take a long, thorough bath, enjoying the feeling of hot water around his body. He glances at the wrist of his left hand with the two thin red lines running across. The scars will remain there for a long time, maybe for as long as Daud lives, but in the end, they will be two of many. Always there to remind him of what he’s done, Daud muses, but also reminding him of Corvo’s forgiveness. Daud smiles inwardly and climbs out of the bathtub over to the sink to shave. When he’s done with his face, Daud also shaves his chest, something he’d gotten used to over time parallel to the increasing number of scars and bullet wounds littering his skin. Despite being Serkonan, Daud doesn’t have much body hair due to his parents’ original roots, but the hairs growing back around the crisscross of scars on his upper body still itch like Void sometimes, and he prefers to remove them.

Daud puts on a light shirt and black trousers and walks over to his bedroom, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. It’s near evening and the last buttery sunbeams make the dust in the air dance and glow. There’s still a stack of paperwork on Daud’s desk, collected from the days he spent regaining his strength, but Daud decides to postpone his work until tomorrow. He stands in front of the window and stares out at the City bathed in the last sunrays when a soft knock on the door interrupts him.

Corvo enters and closes the door behind him, and upon seeing Daud he smiles, a flush creeping over his face.

“Good to see you,” Daud greets him, and Corvo gestures his response.

_How’s your hand?_

“Much better. I’d rather not participate in an arm wrestling contest yet but it’s not hurting anymore,” Daud comes back. Corvo nods, but he looks like he’s only half listening, his eyes darting somewhat nervously around Daud’s bedroom.

 _May I sit_? he asks eventually.

“Of course,” Daud comes back, now slightly confused. He watches as Corvo walks over to Daud’s bed and sits on the edge, his hands fidgeting with a corner of his coat. Corvo avoids looking at him, Daud notices. Daud takes a closer look at Corvo and registers that his hair looks like it’s been washed and combed only recently. He smells subtly of soap and his shirt is immaculate and fresh.

If Daud observes correctly, Corvo carefully got himself clean and groomed and now he’s sitting on the edge of Daud’s bed with a look on his face as if he’s about to snap from the tenseness of his shoulders.

_Oh._

Daud wants to laugh and frown at the same time as he realizes what Corvo had done, or is doing, for that matter. He’s prepared himself for _that_ , for making the next step, signaling Daud he’s ready to break with their platonic bond. But now that he’s here in Daud’s bedroom Corvo is so horribly nervous he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, and the mere thought is breaking Daud’s Void-damned heart.

Daud takes a deep breath and sits down next to Corvo. He reaches up and places a hand on his shoulder, and Corvo flinches at the touch, turning his head slightly so he can look at Daud.

“Alright, bodyguard, spit it out,” Daud says softly. “What is it?”

Corvo looks away again, blinking as he struggles for words, his hands hovering in mid-air.

 _I don’t really know how this works_ , Corvo says eventually, _Between men. But I know something, and what I know makes me a little nervous. I’m not sure if I…_

He breaks off with a defeated little grunt, lowering his hands again and turning his head away. Daud hurries to wrap an arm around Corvo’s shoulders, careful enough to allow him to withdraw if he wishes.

“You’re not sure if you’re going to like it or not, is that it?” Daud finishes for him, his voice as gentle as possible.

Corvo nods.

“Well, what do you know about sex between two men, then?”

Corvo flinches upon Daud’s straightforward choice of words, and he blinks rapidly.

_I couldn’t possibly sign this._

“Then write it down. I’ll wait.”

Corvo produces his notepad and turns away a little while he’s writing. When he’s done he hands the notepad to Daud and sinks in on himself, obviously feeling terribly awkward. Daud gives his shoulder a little squeeze before he reads.

 _I really want to be closer with you, but from what I know, it’s one partner on all fours with the other entering from behind and that doesn’t sound very romantic. I can imagine it’s nice for the one behind but I’m not sure about the other, and not looking into the other’s face is…_ Here Corvo crossed out a few words and picked up a line later. _I’m aware that most of what I know is heavily influenced by the Abbey, but it still makes me nervous._

Daud reads the text twice, and it’s so hard to not let it show how much his burning anger about the fucking Overseers and their lies is making his insides boil. Corvo next to him seems to pick up on Daud’s indignation anyway, because he turns his head away even further and blushes heavily.

“Well, you’re right, this is what he Abbey wants you to think, and it’s complete ratshit,” Daud says firmly while trying not to sound like he’s accusing Corvo for his lack of knowledge, because how else is he supposed to know? The Abbey considers homosexual love a heavy violation against multiple strictures, and the picture they draw as a warning suggests sex between two males to be unpleasant, primitive and dirty, and it’s pissing Daud off. He doesn’t quite manage to keep the snarl from his voice, and Corvo squeezes his eyes shut.

_I insulted you. I’m so sorry._

“Fuck, Corvo, no! I’m not blaming you, alright? I’m blaming the fucking fanatics over at the Abbey. This is _not_ how it is,” Daud hurries to say, trying to calm Corvo down. Corvo shakes his head, avoiding Daud’s gaze, and buries his face in his hands while letting out a frustrated groan. His hands shake when they move again.

 _I just absolutely killed the mood, didn’t I?_ he signs, looking incredibly miserable.

Daud doesn’t quite know how he does it and why, but he _laughs_. He tries to stop it by biting his tongue, but he fails miserably and his shoulders shake from his hoarse chuckle, causing Corvo to stare at him incredulously. His face is the epitome of confused bafflement, and when Daud manages to calm down a little he hurries to explain himself.

“Outsider’s balls, Corvo! How the fuck did you imagine this would go, huh? That I’d be waiting here for you in nice underwear on the bed, with fucking candles and roses and champagne, and that we’d just jump all over each other and that’s it?”

Now it’s Corvo’s turn to huff out a surprised little chuckle, an unbelieving smirk on his face, and then he bursts into laughter as well. Daud feels the corner of his mouth curl up into a wide grin and a part of him bursts with joy, because comforting Corvo is _everything_ to him.

“What? Answer me!” Daud says, not quite managing to keep his voice from shaking with some last stray chuckles.

Corvo shakes his head, now a smile on his face. _I don’t know. I didn’t quite know what to expect, I guess. I just know that I want you._

With that, the smirk vanishes from Daud’s face, replaced by a touched smile. “Corvo…”

 _I’m still nervous_ , Corvo signs, but the tense line of his shoulder has relaxed significantly. He doesn’t resist when Daud wraps him in his arms and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. It’s Daud’s highest priority now to take that discomfort from Corvo. Daud needs to make sure he gets those misunderstandings and prejudices out of his head if they are going to get anywhere.

“That’s fine. You didn’t kill the mood. It’s perfectly understandable that you’re anxious when you don’t quite know what you’re up to. By all means, let’s just talk about it, okay?” Daud suggests gently, satisfied when Corvo nods with a careful smile on his beautiful lips.

“First of all, sex between two men is not so different from a heterosexual couple. It’s not true that the only possible position is one partner on all fours and the other behind. There are a hundred positions, and many of them with the partners facing each other,” Daud explains.

Corvo blinks as he lets that sink in, and Daud has to suppress an amused smirk when he can _see_ the thoughts circling behind Corvo’s face as he tries to imagine how exactly it works. Eventually he lifts his hands to ask Daud about it.

_And how?_

“Well, it’s true that most of it is about… you know, one partner penetrating the other from the back entrance, so to speak, but with a little adjustment of the right angle it’s entirely possible to face each other.”

Corvo nods slowly. _Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?_

Daud sighs, trying not to let his anger over the damn Abbey and their lies show. “You know, the back entrance isn’t just a soft tube to stick things in and that’s it. There are curves, and cavities, and spots that hurt and spots that don’t feel anything, and spots that feel absolutely mindblowing when they’re touched in the right way.”

Corvo lifts his eyebrows. _So it’s nice for both partners?_

“Fuck yes, of course! It’s said that it’s even possible to make the receiving partner finish only by touching certain spots inside him,” Daud says. “It’s not necessary to do any kind of penetration, though. If you’re not comfortable with the thought we can find another way.”

A soft, slightly sheepish smile lights up Corvo’s face, making Daud’s heart race in his chest.

_I assume you’ve been on the dominant side of this so far, right?_

Daud blinks. It’s true that during the rare occasions he’d fetched himself a partner for a one-night stand, he’d picked men that longed for a rougher touch, giving him the opportunity to blow off some steam. His sexual encounters so far had been a biting, grunting assault, claws and teeth and scratches and him pressing the other almost violently into the mattress, but that’s not what he wants with Corvo. Not at all.

“Yes, I admit. But I’ve never been with a partner that actually meant something to me, Corvo. Should you decide to do this with me I’m going to do it all differently. If there’s anything you like in particular, let me know, and if not tell me. All I want is for you to feel good.”

Void, he’s going to drown in those soft, hazel brown eyes.

_You know how to make this feel nice for me?_

“I know a great deal, bodyguard.”

Corvo’s surprised smile is utterly genuine and he appears more grounded, but he still looks like he’s not quite sure what he’s expected to do now. In truth, Daud doesn’t expect him to do anything, at least nothing he doesn’t wish to do. Daud wants to _give_ , anything he possibly can. Sensing that Corvo might approve of some guidance, Daud stands up and takes Corvo’s hands in his. He hauls him up from the bed until they are standing again, facing each other. Daud wraps his arms around Corvo’s torso and pulls him close, one hand cradling the back of Corvo’s head before he leans in to kiss him. Corvo’s eyes soften and he returns Daud’s kiss.

 _Should I have shaved before?_ Corvo asks suddenly with a slightly furrowed brow.

Daud has to laugh and he rubs his cheek against Corvo’s chin, enjoying the prickly sensation. “No, I like your stubble. It feels nice.”

Corvo smirks, and they stand for a while and kiss, slowly and thoroughly, hands roaming over the other’s back, and eventually Daud can feel the muscles of Corvo’s shoulder blades relax, like he had intended. Their kiss slowly turns intoxicating, with more tongue from Daud’s part and playful nips on Daud’s lip from Corvo, and when they stop for breath Corvo’s pupils are wide and black, his cheeks flushed.

_What now?_

His question is delivered with an almost mischievous little smirk, causing Daud’s heart to beat faster. His soulmate is getting more confident, and Daud couldn’t possibly put into words how much that means to him.

“Well, what would you like to do? I’m open for suggestions, bodyguard,” Daud rasps, playing with the collar of Corvo’s coat.

 _Emily was raving about your tattoos. I’ve wanted to see them for a long time_ , Corvo signs.

“As you wish.”

Daud steps back and starts unbuttoning his shirt, but after the first few he stops, letting his hands sink down. He raises an eyebrow and signals Corvo with a little jerk of his head to continue what he had started.

Corvo swallows visibly, causing Daud to having to bite his tongue to ignore how tight his pants feel by now. Corvo’s eyes flick back and forth between his face and the collar of his shirt, but then he steps forward and reaches for the buttons.

As he slowly opens Daud’s shirt, Daud can feel Corvo’s hands shiver slightly, but he can also sense they don’t do so because he’s scared. Daud had tucked the hem of his shirt into his pants, and Corvo carefully pulls it out to undo the last buttons. Corvo gently pushes the shirt over his shoulders, and Daud assists his efforts by shrugging it off completely. Daud watches his soulmate’s face carefully as Corvo takes in Daud’s naked upper body, the patterns on his shoulders and the interwoven, delicate lines on his arms. Corvo’s eyes are impossibly dark and his breathing deepens as he signals Daud to turn around with a little twirl of his index finger.

Daud complies and turns his back to Corvo, letting him see the large, interwoven tattoos covering his back. Daud can’t see his expression and he unconsciously muses if Corvo is finding him attractive in a physical way, not just emotionally. With that in mind, he still flinches heavily when Corvo’s warm hand suddenly touches the skin on his back, tracing the black lines. Daud exhales sharply when Corvo’s lips follow, pressing warmly against the back of his neck, following the large knotted pattern covering his shoulder blades. Corvo’s mouth presses soft kisses against the circle of runes on his shoulder, moves down to the chain of curly pattern on his spine and up to the back of his neck again. His hot breath is ghosting over Daud’s nape, and the sensation causes a violent shudder to run down Daud’s back, and he fails to suppress a soft groan of pleasure. He can feel Corvo grin against his skin upon his reaction, and then Corvo embraces him from behind, pressing flush against his back and his lips on Daud’s neck.

“And? Do you like my old inks?” Daud asks, his voice already surprisingly rough. Corvo softly hums his assent, tracing the lines on Daud’s arms with his fingertips, but then he suddenly withdraws. When Daud turns to see what caught his soulmate’s attention he realizes Corvo is staring at a set of scars on his left flank, just below the ribs.

It’s a wound from their duel, over a year ago in the Flooded District, when Corvo had delivered the final blow to Daud, choosing to end the fight with that. Corvo’s expression upon seeing the large, silvery scar is so stricken and apologetic that Daud struggles for something to say to let him know he doesn’t hold a grudge. How could he?

“Corvo, it’s fine…” he starts, but then Corvo drops down on his knees and all of Daud’s words die in his throat.

Corvo kisses the scar under Daud’s ribs, slowly and reverently, one hand supporting himself against Daud’s thigh. He opens his eyes and stares up at him as if silently apologizing for the wound he struck. Daud hurries to smile at him, letting him know he doesn’t have to worry. The sight of Corvo kneeling in front of him is causing Daud to struggle for breath, and if the tension in his abdomen was hard to ignore before, it’s utterly impossible now. Daud is harder to arouse than he was in his youth, but the slightest touch from his soulmate is more than enough to accomplish that, it seems.

Daud gently hauls Corvo back up and pulls him close to kiss him, and the sight of him kneeling had been enough to get him so dizzy with want that he tugs and pushes at the collar of Corvo’s coat, and his breath hitches when Corvo shrugs it off and lets it fall into a messy pile on the floor. Daud’s fingers toy with Corvo’s shirt next, carefully searching Corvo’s face for signs of discomfort. All he finds is gentle consent, though, and Daud slowly strips Corvo until his upper body is naked too.

Void, this man is beautiful.

Daud has to bite his tongue so hard that he almost tastes blood, but he manages to keep his caresses slow and careful, testing where Corvo likes to be touched. He lets his fingertips graze over Corvo’s pronounced collarbone and his bulging biceps, over the scars on the sharp edges of his chest and down to the symmetrical set of abdominal muscles and by the Outsider, Daud’s wish to shove Corvo onto the bed and lick the little droplets of sweat from every last inch of his tanned skin is verging on the edge of painful. He manages to tame himself and instead leans in to kiss Corvo’s neck, slowly working his way across his shoulders from one side to the other. He grins when Corvo lets out a soft moan, and then rough fingers cup his chin and tilt his head up until he’s looking into Corvo’s face again. Corvo kisses him and presses close, and the feeling of his heated, naked skin against Daud’s is causing him to struggle for composure once more.

By the time Corvo’s breaths come ragged and harsh against Daud’s lips, Daud is already burning with the desire to strip him fully, and he dares to jerk his head to the bed. His heart makes a happy little tumble when Corvo just nods, pupils blown, and they both flop down on the mattress, a mess of hands roaming across the other’s upper body and sloppy, biting kisses. When they press their hips together, Daud can feel Corvo’s hard arousal against his even through the fabric, causing him to smirk. Corvo flinches upon feeling it, and his eyes open widely, momentarily shocked by his own body’s reaction.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Daud soothes. He slowly brings a hand down to the top of Corvo’s trousers and hooks a thumb under the waistband, nothing more, signaling him he won’t proceed unless Corvo wishes. Daud’s eyes find Corvo’s, asking him silently for permission.

Corvo holds his breath as he hesitates only for a moment, considering this next step, allowing Daud to undress him fully. Then he nods, the hint of a careful smile gracing his lips.

Daud opens Corvo’s belt and pushes down his pants, and Corvo assists Daud’s efforts by wiggling his legs and toeing off his socks. Corvo is still wearing thin undergarments, but nothing more, and his arousal must be just as much on the brink of painful as Daud’s. Daud gently nudges Corvo until he’s lying on his back, his neck supported by a pillow, and sits by his side.

One of Daud’s hands rests gently on Corvo’s lower stomach, rubbing small circles through the dark hair growing down from his navel. Corvo’s breath is accelerated and his face flushed, his hair in gorgeous disarray, and he supports himself a bit on his elbows to see what Daud is doing.

“Corvo… Would you let me…?” Daud asks, his husky voice merely a whisper. He places a hand on Corvo’s hip, trying to gauge Corvo’s feelings towards being touched by his soulmate in this entirely new way, about letting himself be exposed fully.

Corvo nods slowly, his eyes never leaving Daud’s.

His heart a hammering drum in his chest, Daud gently peels off the last layer of cloth from Corvo. His erection finally leaps free from his pants and the sight causes Daud’s mouth to turn dry. He struggles to let his gaze wander about Corvo’s legs first, taking in the elegant, slim ankles, the curve of his calves and the muscular thighs. He firmly runs his palms along Corvo’s leg, reveling in the feeling of bunched muscles and sinews under his touch. He finally bends down to kiss Corvo’s knee, working his way up his thighs until his tongue finds the sharp edge of his hipbone, framing his arousal like a marvelous oil painting.

“Corvo, you are so fucking beautiful…” Daud rumbles against his skin before he can stop himself.

To his bafflement, Corvo laughs, a hoarse, surprised chuckle, causing Daud to look up.

“What? Never got a compliment before?” Daud snarls, but the grin tugging at his lips takes any sting from his words.

 _Never from a man, and certainly never on my legs,_ Corvo signs, an amused smirk on his face.

Daud could feel mocked now, but he doesn’t, because Corvo is smiling, easy and comfortable, and that is all that matters.

“Well, you better get used to it, bodyguard,” he growls and bends down again, nipping playfully at the jut of Corvo’s hipbone. That elicits a soft gasp from Corvo, and draws out into a long, content moan when Daud’s tongue moves to the inside of Corvo’s thigh, tasting the sensitive skin there. Daud hasn’t touched Corvo’s erection yet and longs for it so much that he can barely handle it, but he needs to make sure Corvo allows it.

Daud prowls up Corvo’s body, pressing soft little kisses on his skin as he makes his way up, and finally lies by Corvo’s side again. Corvo immediately takes Daud’s face in his hands and pulls him close, and their lips meet. Daud groans against Corvo’s warm lips and responds in kind, and his hand automatically travels down Corvo’s body until it rests on his hip. Corvo doesn’t flinch this time, and upon seeing Daud’s deep, questioning gaze Corvo simply jerks his hips forward, pressing his erection against Daud’s hand.

It should, technically, worry Daud that caressing another person’s arousal almost is enough to drive him over the edge, but he can’t bring himself to care. His world shrinks down to the way Corvo’s brows furrow when he moans, the sound of his cut-off breath and the way he squirms in Daud’s firm embrace. Corvo seems to have been pining for this just as badly as Daud, judging by the way he trembles and arches and gasps for breath. Daud experiments with different movements and speeds to find out what Corvo likes, pausing occasionally to swirl the pad of his thumb over his tip, smearing the sticky liquid that collects there. All the while, Daud can’t tear his eyes from Corvo’s face, kissing him and nipping at his lip. Each time he does it Corvo’s length jumps in his hand, and each time Daud feels like he’s going insane from the sheer pleasure of watching Corvo.

At one point, Corvo holds his breath and reaches down to still the movement of Daud’s hand. Daud immediately lets go, wary that he hurt him somehow.

“You alright?” he rasps, his own voice rough with lust.

To his great relief, Corvo nods, something hesitant in his eyes. He lifts his hands to sign, and Daud makes sure he has enough space to do so.

_What about you?_

Daud raises his eyebrows and blinks rapidly. His own neglected erection feels like he’s going to burst at any moment, but to be honest he hasn’t thought much of his own needs, because seeing Corvo writhe with pleasure had been more than enough.

Before he can answer, Corvo signs again. _This is not only about you pampering me. It’s about us._

Daud swallows, blinking rapidly. “Well… If you’d like to try something new you are more than welcome to do so, given you are comfortable with it?”

Corvo nods, and Daud’s attempt at smiling fails miserably when Corvo’s warm hands push down the waistband of Daud’s trousers, and that’s enough to elicit an embarrassingly enthusiastic groan from him. Corvo grins at him, peeling away Daud’s pants, and then he’s completely naked too.

Daud watches Corvo’s expression upon seeing his entire body exposed, and what his presence does to Daud. There is something insecure left in Corvo’s eyes, but also something bright, something raw and longing, and that fills Daud with hope.

_May I touch you?_

Daud huffs out a short laugh. As if he even needs to ask.

“I’m all yours.”

Corvo’s hand slowly travels down Daud’s body, caressing the pronounced relief of his chest and stomach and finally rests at his thigh. Daud, inwardly squirming with anticipation and desperate not to show it, can hear Corvo swallow. Corvo takes a breath and holds it before tentatively running his fingertips along Daud’s shaft. His hand shakes a little and he still appears hesitant to touch him, and Daud hurries to pull Corvo close, kissing his forehead to comfort him.

“You’re not sure how I like it, is that it?” he murmurs against Corvo’s skin. Corvo smiles a sheepish little smile and nods.

Daud kisses his nose. “Just touch me like you would touch yourself.”

Corvo blushes heavily for a moment, shocked by Daud’s candor. Then he seems to make up his mind, something determined in his eyes. His strong fingers gently wrap around Daud’s length, and then his hand moves.

Apparently, when Corvo touches himself he likes slow, firm strokes with an occasional pause to twist the hollow palm of his hand over the tip, slicking his calloused fingers with precum before making his way back down. The mere mental image that this is how Corvo gives himself pleasure is so damn erotic that it triples Daud’s own, and after only a few strokes he gasps for breath, biting his tongue to keep himself from crying out his lust so hard that it hurts. A part of Daud wants to feel humiliated at how easily Corvo manages to reduce him to a shivering puddle, but when Daud cracks his eyes open for a moment to look at Corvo, his soulmate smirks, smug and knowing, the damn bastard. The thought that Corvo enjoys doing this for Daud makes it more than worth it.

 _Good?_ Corvo signs with his free hand.

Instead of answering, Daud just lets out a content growl, like a deep, rumbling purr. He returns his attention to Corvo, using his hand to elicit more of those pretty little gasps from his lips and catches them with his mouth. They are tangled in each other’s arms and hands as closely as they possibly can, grinding against the other’s body, and Outsider’s eyes the sight of his erection brushing against Corvo’s, feeling his pulsing, heated skin is causing Daud to struggle for control. Eventually, he decides to venture a bit further, encouraged by the obvious enjoyment Corvo displays and his growing confidence.

One of Daud’s hands inches down Corvo’s back and finally stops at the small dimples next to his spine, just where his soulmate mark is etched into his skin. Corvo feels where the movement is going and opens his eyes, blinking at Daud.

“May I?” Daud asks softly.

Corvo frowns and lifts an eyebrow, unsure what Daud wants. Daud huffs out a soft laugh at his confused expression.

“Void, Corvo, calm down. I just want to touch your ass, that’s all. If you’re alright with that,” he says quietly, and Corvo chuckles too, nodding his assent.

Feeling taut like a string and biting his lip, Daud lets his palms slide over Corvo’s cheeks, marveling in the feeling of smooth, firm flesh under his hands, each muscle dented by a beautiful small dimple. It’s absolutely mesmerizing, and the way Corvo gasps softly when Daud squeezes makes him chuckle.

“You got a fine ass, you know that?” Daud rumbles huskily into Corvo’s ear, smirking when it makes Corvo shudder with pleasure. Corvo lets go of Daud’s erection for a moment to sign.

_I heard that one before._

“Not from a man, I hope,” Daud comes back, causing Corvo to huff out a short laugh. He shakes his head and leans in to catch Daud’s mouth with his. “Mind to continue?”

Daud can feel Corvo smile against his lips and his hand moves down again, closing firmly around Daud’s arousal. They are grinding together with increasing urgency, both breathing quickly and a sheen of sweat making their skin glisten, and by the Void it’s so much better than Daud could ever have imagined. Daud’s arousal is being fanned to a point that makes him feel drunk with desire, and his deep wish to bury himself in Corvo and make him shudder apart under him is the only thing left in his blurry mind. Daud decides to hazard inching one hand between Corvo’s legs. Daud makes sure Corvo’s erection is still pressing against his stomach so they can grind together, then Daud caresses the inside of Corvo’s thigh, letting his palm glide down to where his leg joins his torso. Corvo flinches immediately and sucks in a startled breath, and Daud stops his motion.

_What are you doing?_

Daud smiles and kisses his forehead. “Nothing you don’t want. But… I admit I’d really, really like to be as close to you as possible, so, if you’d like to give it a try…?”

Upon seeing Corvo’s heated, aroused gaze mingled with leftover insecurity, Daud pitches his voice to something soothing and suggestive and hurries to add: “Maybe we can start with a little massage and see how you like it, and decide then how and if you’d like to go on. I promise I’ll stop immediately if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

Corvo smiles, lifting his hands. _If it’s something you want, I will give it a chance._

At that, a gush of words builds up in Daud’s throat, a need to tell Corvo that Daud is utterly thankful just to be able to hold him close, that Daud could weep with joy about being allowed to kiss Corvo, to hear the little sounds of pleasure from him, and that a no from his side won’t ever change the way Daud feels. That it is not necessary, because being close to Corvo is all he needs.

All Daud can manage is a raspy _thank you_ , though, and he quickly presses his lips to Corvo’s forehead to hide the expression that just flickered across his face.

Judging by the look in Corvo’s eyes he must have seen it, though. _I trust that you’ll make it feel nice for me. So far it’s wonderful._

“I intend to keep that up,” Daud whispers, and then he kisses him vigorously while his hand slowly slips between Corvo’s legs. Daud lets his fingers graze over the soft skin of Corvo’s perineum, inching further down to his tailbone, but he doesn’t touch his entrance yet. He simply runs his hand back and forth between Corvo’s cheeks, sensing that Corvo is not used to being touched there. At first, Corvo fidgets a little at the unfamiliar sensation, but after a while he relaxes a bit, letting out a soft gasp when Daud’s fingers gently massage his perineal muscles. All the while, Daud grinds his stomach against Corvo’s erection, his other hand cradling the back of Corvo’s head. Corvo’s hand still gently strokes Daud with deft fingers, something that makes concentrating incredibly difficult, while the other rests on Daud’s back. Eventually, Daud gently rubs the pad of his middle finger over Corvo’s entrance. Upon feeling him twitch Daud hurries to whisper husky encouragements in his ear, causing Corvo to bite his lip and the hand on Daud’s back to tense up. Corvo drags his hand back over Daud’s side to his chest, on his way brushing against the sensitive spot on the side of his ribcage that Daud particularly likes, and he gasps softly when Corvo’s warm palm passes by.

“More of that, if you don’t mind,” Daud growls huskily, and Corvo smirks and rubs firm circles with his hand over Daud’s ribs, causing Daud to groan with pleasure. There is something proud in Corvo’s expression, as if he enjoys the thought that he’s responsible for Daud’s pleasure, and Daud relishes in the knowledge.

Daud keeps drawing small circles over the puckered muscle of Corvo’s entrance, making sure Corvo is slowly getting used to the unfamiliar sensation. Then he withdraws again, pleased when Corvo lets out a protesting whine at the loss of contact, and Daud hurries to kiss him.

“If you liked that so far, getting ourselves some oil might be a good idea,” Daud growls against Corvo’s lips.

Corvo blinks rapidly, and his eyes dart down to Daud’s throbbing erection. _I’m not sure if I’m ready yet._

Daud huffs out a soft laugh. “Not for _that_ , Corvo. Void, small steps, remember? I’ll try putting in a finger first. If anything hurts you just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

Corvo nods, looking relieved and thankful. Daud rolls over to his nightstand and opens a drawer to produce a small bottle of massage oil. He carefully slicks the fingers of one hand with oil before lying by Corvo’s side again, and when Corvo willingly spreads his thighs a little to grant Daud easier access Daud feels like he’s bursting with longing. Forcing himself to be patient for Corvo’s sake, Daud does the same as before, rubbing little circles around Corvo’s entrance to relax him. Only when he feels the muscle loosening does he carefully push the tip of his middle finger in. Corvo gasps against Daud’s lips and twitches in his embrace, and Daud immediately stills the motion of his hand. He continues moving when Corvo has gotten used to the foreign sensation, all the while kissing him and holding him close. Daud proceeds with careful slowness, pausing at each of Corvo’s gasps and jerks as he gently presses deeper in. He carefully feels for the walnut-sized bump somewhere at Corvo’s core, and when he finds it he curls his finger against it.

Corvo lets out deep, sudden moan and arches his back, his hands fisting the sheets. The expression on his face is utter astonishment, eyes wide. He gasps for breath, surprised and unprepared for the mass of completely new sensations deep inside him resulting from Daud’s touch. Daud grins wickedly, his eyes never leaving Corvo’s, and rubs the pad of his finger over that spot again, biting his lip with enjoyment when Corvo moans. Breathing heavily, Corvo lifts his trembling hands enough to sign.

_I didn’t know I could feel this._

Daud’s grin widens. “I told you I can make this nice for you, didn’t I?” he growls, and prods against Corvo’s prostate again, eliciting another breathy moan. Before, the unfamiliar sensation of Daud’s probing finger had caused Corvo to grow a little soft, but now his erection returns quickly. He writhes and shivers in rhythm with Daud’s caresses when Daud starts moving his finger in and out, and Daud’s own neglected arousal is so hard that it _hurts_. He bites the skin of Corvo’s neck, reveling in the sound of his cut-off breaths and choked moans.

“You like that, bodyguard?” he rasps against Corvo’s ear, and Corvo manages a nod, an openmouthed smile on his face. “Think you can take two fingers?”

Another nod. Dizzy with pleasure, Daud carefully continues to gently and slowly stretch Corvo, and the way the man clenches warm and tight around his digits, opening for him, is driving Daud to the brink of his self control. Daud drinks in the sight of Corvo, and, following a sudden, fierce urge, crawls down Corvo’s sweat-coated, shivering body until he’s nudging his nose against Corvo’s erection.

When he hears Corvo’s gasp Daud looks up, seeing the surprise on his soulmate’s face. Daud, now completely drunk with want, manages a raspy _please_ , and Corvo just nods, eyes dark as the night sky. The deep groan Corvo lets out when Daud drags the flat of his tongue over his shaft vibrates throughout his entire body. Daud shivers with pleasure himself upon tasting Corvo, deliciously warm and pulsating against his tongue, and shortly after he feels Corvo’s hand caressing through his hair, urging him on. Daud complies and takes Corvo into his mouth while pressing a third finger into him.

Corvo lets out a choked cry, and Daud jerks up his head immediately.

“Fuck, Corvo, did I hurt you?”

Corvo shakes his head and manages a fond smile as if Daud’s fussiness amuses him. _No, it’s alright. Felt good._

Relieved, Daud bends down to continue his attentions, but a soft touch of his cheek makes him look up again.

 _Should I want you to stop, I’ll do this_ , Corvo signs, and pats Daud’s shoulder with his hand two times. _Everything else is a sign of pleasure._

Daud feels the corners of his lips tug upwards, touched by Corvo’s gesture. Corvo wants to make sure Daud doesn’t worry about his wellbeing too much. Except that Daud does, but it comforts him greatly that so far Corvo seems to enjoy it beyond all measure. Daud slowly sucks down Corvo again while making gentle motions with three fingers inside him, and he can feel Corvo getting open and relaxed while at the same time growing tense as a bowstring. Daud could reach down to give himself some strokes, but hearing Corvo’s breathless moans and feeling his flesh pulse against his tongue is more than enough to drive him closer and closer to the edge with every passing moment. Corvo’s fingers rake through his hair and scratch his shoulders and arms, and eventually Daud has the feeling that he can’t possibly take it a mere second longer without exploding.

He gently takes his fingers out and presses a last kiss on the tip of Corvo’s erection, and then he prowls up Corvo’s body, positioning himself between Corvo’s legs. Corvo’s eyes widen, pupils blown and face flushed when Daud hovers over him. He grabs Daud’s head and pulls him down for a thorough, biting kiss, and Daud groans against Corvo’s lips.

“Corvo…” Daud breathes against Corvo’s cheek. “Would you let me…?”

Their eyes meet. Corvo stares up at Daud, but the barest hint of hesitation left in his beautiful face immediately dissolves into breathless, endless desire, and he just nods. Daud has trouble believing that this is actually happening when he slicks himself with oil and gently nudges Corvo’s thighs open. He makes a point of showing Corvo that they’ll be facing each other the entire time when he positions himself above him, one of his hands caressing Corvo’s jaw while the other reaches down to stroke Corvo’s erection. Daud doesn’t press in at once, he just positions his tip at Corvo’s entrance, waiting for his permission.

“Are you sure? We can stop if you want,” he rasps even if it threatens to tear him apart, but Corvo just shakes his head and lets out a soft whimper, rolling his hips against Daud. Finally allowing himself to indulge in this very moment, Daud enters Corvo, slowly pressing in. Corvo lets out a soft gasp and his grip on Daud’s arms tenses up, but he returns Daud’s gaze, eyes black with desire. Daud moves with tentative slowness, watching Corvo’s face for any signs of discomfort or pain, and it feels so damn good Daud has to actively force himself to continue breathing. When they are joined completely, Daud lowers himself down on Corvo’s body on trembling arms and kisses him, slow and passionate. Corvo moans against his lips, his fingernails digging into Daud’s arms.

“Shhh, you’re doing great. Just relax,” Daud whispers. Corvo is warm and so deliciously tight that Daud has trouble mustering the self control to stay still for now, because making sure Corvo is enjoying it is _everything_ to him. Daud licks Corvo’s ear and reaches down to caress his arousal to ease the initial discomfort upon entering him, giving him some time to adapt. Corvo manages a little smile, signaling Daud that he’s alright, and Daud starts moving. Corvo moans and Daud can feel his body tense up under him.

“Am I hitting the right spot?” Daud asks him gently. Corvo raises one eyebrow and shakes his head a little, but he smiles. Daud takes that as a signs that he’s still willing to proceed, and he adjusts his angle a bit by grabbing the underside of Corvo’s left thigh and pressing it towards his stomach. Corvo frowns and gasps, and the two short taps on Daud’s arm make him stop in his motion immediately.

“Sorry,” Daud says and leans down to press a quick kiss against Corvo’s lips. “Let’s try something different then. Give me that pillow over there.”

Corvo twists a bit until he reaches the pillow and Daud gently nudges Corvo’s hips, signaling him to lift them. Corvo digs his heels in the mattress and Daud places the pillow under his hips to keep them tilted up. Then he leans forward over Corvo again, nipping playfully at his chin. Daud makes an experimental little roll of his hips, and this time Corvo groans with pleasure.

“Better?”

Corvo has his eyes closed and his hands move so clumsily that Daud can barely understand the gestures, but the signs for _perfect_ and _more_ are among them. Feeling a rush of lust droning in his ears, Daud starts moving again, thrusting his hips into Corvo while licking the little droplets of sweat from his neck. To his endless delight, Corvo responds to Daud’s motion, arching his back and rolling his hips against Daud’s with a hungry blaze in his eyes.

They fall into a good rhythm as easily as if they have never done anything else in their lives. The world shrinks down to the way their sweating bodies grind together, fever-hot skin and ragged breath and teeth nipping on each other’s lips. Daud feels so drunk with lust that he can barely keep his eyes open, but the sight of Corvo in front of him makes it worth the effort. Corvo is stunningly beautiful with his disheveled hair and flexing muscles, but nothing is as gorgeous as the look in his eyes when Daud leans down to press his forehead against his. His breath comes harsh and choked against Daud’s lips after each thrust, and before Daud can stop himself he lowers his head and bites down into the soft skin between Corvo’s neck and shoulder, and Corvo cries out. In return, Corvo’s fingernails rake down Daud’s back, probably leaving long scratches, and the sharp pain is like pouring a barrel of whale oil into a fire. It’s wonderful, so utterly wonderful. Daud speeds up his thrusts, encouraged by Corvo’s husky groans, and reaches down between them to stroke Corvo’s erection. He can feel his own completion approaching, but he forces himself back in favor of watching Corvo. Corvo’s eyes lock with Daud’s one more time before they flutter shut, and he rolls his head back. His trembling hands dig almost painfully into the skin on Daud’s back, and every muscle in his writhing, sweating body tenses up. Corvo cries out, and Daud strokes him through his orgasm until Corvo comes all over his chest and stomach. The way he clenches uncontrollably around Daud finally pushes him over the edge as well, and Daud presses his face into the curve of Corvo’s neck, muffling his own desperate groans as he loses himself in him.

For a long while, they stay as they are, joined completely and covered in sweat, gasping for air. Daud’s body forms a taut arch over Corvo, and he manages to lift his head enough to press his mouth against Corvo’s. Corvo’s hands shake when he rakes them through Daud’s hair as if he doesn’t want to end their kiss for the world, and Daud shares the feeling. Eventually he withdraws a little, only enough to carefully pull out, making a soothing little sound when Corvo gasps upon feeling his oversensitized nerves.

Daud sits back on his haunches and stares at Corvo sprawled out before him, and by the Outsider he is the most beautiful thing Daud has ever seen, muscles gleaming with sweat and boneless from the intensity of his peak. There is a thin trail of small milky puddles decorating Corvo’s stomach, and Daud finds himself hypnotized by the way a droplet of semen runs down his flank. He bends down and licks the droplets up, starting with the tip of Corvo’s softening arousal and working his way upwards his stomach, picking up the small puddles with gentle swipes of his tongue until Corvo is clean. Each drop is a proof of Corvo’s lust and Daud has never tasted anything more delicious. When he’s done, he notices that Corvo’s eyes had never left him, and Corvo reaches out to pull him up. They roll on their side and kiss, tangled in each other’s arms, enjoying the last aftershocks of their height as they slowly find their way back out from their daze.

“Corvo…,” Daud murmurs blissfully, tracing Corvo’s skin with his fingertips. “I’ve been waiting so long for this, you beautiful bastard…”

He tenses up when he realizes that he just said his thoughts loudly and bites his tongue, cursing himself. To his relief, Corvo just smiles against Daud’s lips and nods, eyes dark and drowned with contentment, and then he mouths _Me too_. Daud huffs, secretly relieved, and leans in for another kiss.

“How are you feeling?” Daud rumbles against Corvo’s swollen lips, and has to bite his tongue to suppress a laugh when Corvo grins widely, a stupidly adorable expression of utter satisfaction on his face.

“I take that as a good sign.”

Corvo nods eagerly. His grin softens around the edges, and he lets a finger trace the side of Daud’s cheek in an almost reverent way.

_That was nice._

Daud huffs, trying not to show that he is so utterly touched that he doesn’t quite trust his voice. “It was.”

_Sorry I took so long to adapt. It was all very new for me._

“Oh for fuck’s sake Corvo, shut up!” Daud snarls with a playful little nip on his jaw. “Don’t you dare apologize. You did great, okay? I don’t think I ever made this much noise when fucking somebody, take that as proof.”

Corvo chuckles, pulling Daud closer for another kiss.

“Does anything hurt?” Daud wants to know softly, aware that when they got closer to their climax, he’d been quite rough despite his promise to be gentle, but Corvo had been just as needy for it as he was.

 _Just a little sore_ , Corvo signs. _It feels a bit strange._

With _it_ Corvo most probably means the results of Daud coming inside him, and Daud hurries to roll over to his nightstand. He produces a small towel and a container with balm that he normally uses to treat cuts and wounds. Daud joins Corvo’s side again, gently nudging his thighs apart. Wordlessly, Corvo allows him to clean him up. When Daud is done, he dips his fingertips into the balm and reaches between Corvo’s legs again. Corvo hisses softly when Daud gently applies some balm around his entrance, but he holds still the entire time, watching Daud’s face with an unreadable expression.

“Better?”

Corvo nods, very slowly. _I didn’t know you could be so caring._

Daud carefully focuses on putting the lid back on the container. “Well, you do strange things to me, bodyguard.”

 _Something_ must have shown on his face, because Corvo tilts Daud’s chin up, forcing their eyes to lock. Corvo’s eyes are so dark they could rival the Outsider, and Daud finds himself breathless. Corvo can’t talk, but the look he fixes Daud with brims with so many words that it almost feels suffocating. Daud wants to answer, he wants to tell Corvo just how wonderful, how utterly mindblowing it felt to be with him, but he couldn’t possibly turn his feelings into words even if he tried. Daud manages to hold Corvo’s stare, tries to tell him without speaking just _how much_ this meant to him, to have him close, to have this physical proof of his trust, of his affection, and maybe… maybe even more than that.

Corvo’s eyes close, eventually, breaking the spell as he leans in to kiss Daud one more time, and it feels as if he puts everything he can’t voice into the kiss, and it makes Daud tremble with thankfulness.

The clocktower chimes far in the distance when Daud reaches over them to pull a blanket over their bodies, and they press as closely together as physically possible, tangled in each other’s arms, fingers entwined. Corvo yawns against Daud’s hair, blinking drowsily, and Daud revels in the scent of Corvo’s sweat, nuzzling his nose in the curve of his neck. Outside, there are mad witches and obnoxious nobles and pesky court meetings, but nothing of that matters, not here, not now, not when Daud is able to hold Corvo close, leaden with bliss. Daud presses another soft kiss against Corvo’s chin, and then he drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And somewhere in the Void, a very happy little whale god just fanboyed so hard that he knocked over his popcorn.


	17. Chapter 17

**XVII.**

Corvo wakes up in the gray morning hours just before dawn. Somehow, he’s managed to push the blanket aside during his sleep, and the room is so chilly that he’s freezing. Shivering, he lifts his head and blinks, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He’s not in his bed, and he’s clutching a pillow that’s not his own, and the curtains have the wrong color.

Finally, Corvo’s tired mind manages to provide him with memories, and suddenly it’s all back again. His visit in Daud’s quarters yesterday, his horribly strained nerves and Daud’s gentle understanding, their talk and…

 _And_.

A powerful flush creeps up Corvo’s face as he thinks about what he’d done last night, things both of them had been unconsciously longing to do for a long time but had always been hindered by invisible walls to initiate. Corvo turns a little and spots Daud’s bulky form close to him, partly covered with his blanket. Corvo reaches for the edge and lifts it, slipping under closely to Daud and covering them both with the blanket again. Corvo presses against Daud’s broad back, shuddering with pleasure as Daud’s massive body heat envelops him and chases the chill from his naked skin. Daud responds to Corvo’s closeness by arching his back a little, but he doesn’t make any sounds nor does he wake up.

Corvo nuzzles his nose into the fine hair on the back of Daud’s neck and inhales deeply, gently running one hand over his warm flank. The scent of Daud’s hair, warm leather and sweat, immediately elicits a torrent of memories in Corvo, some of which still confuse him. They had finally had sex, something that had been building up between the two of them for what feels like an eternity. Still, thinking about it feels surreal to Corvo, as if everything had happened in a fever dream, blurry and heated. He remembers being terribly nervous when he had finally taken the heart to visit Daud, determined to let him know he was ready for more than chaste intimacies. When he had made it to his soulmate’s quarters though, Corvo had suddenly felt as anxious as a young man talking to a pretty girl for the first time. All his fears and concerns had caused him to believe he’d completely spoiled the mood with his insecurity and his worry about not being what Daud wants from a partner. Daud had somehow managed to take it all from his mind, patient and gentle, and Corvo had enjoyed their first time beyond all measure.

If Corvo is very honest with himself, the mere thought of sleeping with a man is still something he’s unfamiliar with. He had been with women for all his life and always thought they were all he liked. He’d never indulged in the thought of what it felt like to lie with a man, despite the occasions when he tried to imagine what he would do if he had a male soulmate.

Corvo’s palm gently brushes over Daud’s waist up to his ribs and over his tattooed arm, tracing the sharp lines of muscles and sinews. Nothing about Daud is feminine. Nothing about him is soft, curvy or delicate. He’s all harsh edges, raw strength and bunched muscles, the scent of sweat and metal and musk. At least he isn’t particularly hairy, something that Corvo actually likes, and he’ll never grow tired of following the fine inky lines of Daud’s tattoos with his fingertips. Still, it’s been an utterly new experience for Corvo, especially since he’d been in the receiving position for the first time, and if he’s very honest with himself he hadn’t expected it to be so pleasant. Corvo might have been nervous, but it had been so incredibly easy to succumb to Daud, to his touches and kisses, to let himself fall. Corvo had felt so trusting and well cared for that his anxiety had just melted away under Daud’s deft fingers, replaced by rampant desire.

To be very honest, knowing Daud’s history and general demeanor towards his men and other people, Corvo had expected him to have a much rougher touch. Predatory and claiming. He wasn’t, though. Daud had been patient. Passionate. Tender.

 _Loving_?

Corvo frowns, not entirely sure where this particular train of thought is going to take him. The wounds they both suffered are healing, but slowly so. Still, under the scars, _something_ is making its presence known, and it’s growing too warm and too bright to ignore it. Too sleepy to engage in the thought any further, Corvo gently runs his palm over Daud’s flank, reveling in the feeling of hot skin under his hand.

Stirring under Corvo’s touch, Daud suddenly moves and rolls over until he’s facing Corvo. He hasn’t woken up, and Corvo carefully wraps him in his arms. He runs a finger down the side of Daud’s cheek, following the long scar. He’s never asked Daud about how he got it, he realizes. Corvo catches himself contemplating whether he ever considered a man beautiful. He’d been able to judge whether a man was handsome by heterosexual standards, whether he’d be attractive to women, but Corvo had never felt attracted to another man’s face. Daud is _not_ handsome by normal standards, with the asymmetric scars, the strong chin that most of the time makes him look like he’s in a bad mood, the stern, piercing gray eyes and broad nose. But when Corvo looks at him, he doesn’t see that. He knows what Daud looks like when he smiles, easy and open, and Corvo finds his nose nothing but endearing. Corvo likes the tips of Daud’s ears that point a little outwards, he likes the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he laughs, he likes his sharp cheekbones and the elegant line of his jaw, he likes it when his usually neat hair is in total disarray after having slept.

Yes… He finds Daud beautiful, strangely enough. Corvo reaches out and brushes some of the longer strands on the top of Daud’s head down so that they hang in front of his eyes, and can’t help smirking at the way he looks. That finally causes Daud to wake up. He crinkles his nose and frowns briefly, something that plasters a silly smile in Corvo’s face without being able to do anything about it, and then Daud’s eyes flutter open.

As soon as Daud realizes Corvo is lying awake in front of him, he smiles drowsily, and Corvo’s heart beats faster.

“Good morning,” Daud rasps, and the ruined sound of his voice causes Corvo to bite his lip with pleasure. Daud rakes his fingers through his messed up hair to brush the strands back. He turns a little so he can arch his back and stretch his legs, and then he yawns against the back of his hand before turning back to Corvo. “Don’t you fucking tell me you were watching me sleep, Corvo.”

Corvo chuckles. _And if I was?_

Daud huffs a short laugh. “Sentimental bastard.”

The soft shine flickering up in his eyes takes any sting from his words. Daud shifts a little to lie on his side, looping an arm around Corvo and pulling him close. His head darts forward a little as if he makes to kiss Corvo, but then he stops, his eyes unusually dark and soft.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks gently.

Corvo nods. He’d actually slept better than in a long time, and now he’s utterly relaxed and well rested.

Daud grins. “Me too.”

His smirk wavers around the edges and suddenly he looks almost anxious. Daud visibly takes a breath before he speaks again.

“About yesterday… Did I say or do anything that made you uncomfortable?”

Corvo blinks. Apparently he hadn’t been the only one to be nervous before their first time, and the realization causes a flush to heat up his chest. Daud had been anxious to overwhelm Corvo with all the things they did, and now he’s worried that Corvo regrets doing something that he’d done in a moment of lustful daze, now that he is awake and clear-headed again.

Corvo hurries to let Daud know that everything they did had been nothing but breathtaking by shaking his head, a fond smile on his face. He leans in for a kiss, and Daud immediately draws him in as hungrily as if he’s starving for the taste of Corvo’s lips.

Daud’s kisses are a delicious mixture of adoring gentleness and poorly concealed predatory hunger, passionate and biting at the same time. Corvo had been anxious to indulge in the thought of kissing somebody after having lost his tongue, because he really doesn’t want anyone to get too close to the ruined remainders in the back of his throat. Daud seems to feel his reluctance instinctively. He never pushes his tongue in too far to make Corvo uncomfortable and instead focuses on letting the tip brush over Corvo’s teeth and his lips. Corvo had had to realize painfully that there are way too many intimacies that require a tongue, and he’d secretly been anxious that Daud might find his inability to use his tongue lacking. He doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, and Corvo chides himself for even considering the thought. Daud makes desperate little noises in the back of his throat when he kisses him and groans with pleasure when he tastes Corvo’s lips, and even if Corvo can’t return them the gentle brushes of Daud’s tongue against Corvo’s mouth feel absolutely mesmerizing.

They only stop when the necessity for air becomes too prominent to ignore, and their gazes lock. Daud’s face radiates utter relief mingled with a deep, thankful tenderness that intensifies when he brushes a thumb over Corvo’s lips.

Corvo picks up Daud’s left hand and intertwines their fingers. He turns Daud’s wrist and looks at the two scars resulting from Daud’s own blade, thin red lines that had almost cost him his life. The memory of him discovering Daud kneeling down in a puddle of blood, his own blade clutched tightly in his right hand and the left one bleeding freely still causes him to shudder with horror. Corvo had been stunned by a numbing, terrible fear eating through his insides, like the floor opening under him to engulf him in darkness, fear of losing this man that meant more to him than he had ever cared to admit. In a daze Corvo had scooped Daud up, patched his wrist as well as he could and blinked towards Thomas’ little office so fast that his head had felt like it would explode with pain. Thomas had reacted immediately, and it had seemed like Daud’s trusty second in command had prepared for something bad to happen, as if he had picked up on Daud’s strange behavior early on. While the Whalers had tended to their Master, all professional stoicism failing to cover up their horror, Corvo had repeated the words in his mind over and over again, like a prayer.

_Don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t leave me._

“Hey, Corvo.”

Daud’s deep, gentle rasp stirs him out of his brooding, and he looks up to meet his soulmate’s gaze.

“I already told you I don’t blame you. Stop worrying,” Daud says quietly. “Just forget what happened.”

As if he ever could. Still, Corvo nods and presses his lips to Daud’s wrist. He’ll never forget how his reluctance to tell Daud that he had forgiven him long ago had driven Daud so stricken with regret and sorrow that he had lashed out against himself.

Corvo will never make that mistake again.

 _I really enjoyed what we did yesterday_ , Corvo signs, unsure if he can voice this right by using his hands, but he knows that Daud will understand.

Daud smiles. “I think it’s been high time, don’t you?” His smile softens, and he reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair from Corvo’s eyes. “Thanks for trusting me. I… It meant a lot to me. Being with you.”

No signs in the world could ever supply Corvo with a proper reply, so instead of answering, Corvo just leans in to kiss him. He puts everything he can’t say into the kiss, warm lips and shared breath and pressing so close to Daud that he can feel his racing heartbeat against his chest. Daud groans against Corvo’s mouth and digs his hands into his hair and returns the kiss with equal vigor. Their kiss starts slow and quickly turns intoxicating, and after a few moments they grind together hungrily. When Daud feels Corvo’s erection touching his stomach, he grins against Corvo’s lips and withdraws, an almost predatory glint in his eyes.

Corvo groans at the loss of contact and makes to pull Daud back, but Daud just grabs his shoulders and presses him back onto the mattress, holding him firmly in place. Daud hovers over him and nips at Corvo’s lip before making his way down Corvo’s body, pressing delicate little kisses on his neck and chest. Corvo gasps with pleasure when Daud’s teeth briefly graze over his nipple, and then his lips ghost over Corvo’s stomach, further down.

Corvo had been with a few women during his lifetime, but none of them had treated his body like Daud does. None of them besides one, that is, but Corvo could never dare to compare Daud and her. Still, Daud is not only appreciating Corvo’s muscular chest or flat stomach, not only making him compliments on his mysterious dark eyes or pretty hair. No, Daud _worships_. He appreciates Corvo entirely, every last patch of skin. He touches every inch of Corvo’s body with a reverence that verges on the border of awe, slow and gentle and always with a shivering tension behind every single one of his touches as if he needs to hold himself back from bursting with want.

When Daud reaches Corvo’s erection, both hands rubbing warmly along Corvo’s thighs, their eyes lock once more. There is a deep, affectionate shine in Daud’s storm-gray eyes, a shaky euphoria about just being around Corvo. It’s a joy seeing Daud like this, open and unguarded. Corvo knows now that Daud had been pining to be close to him for way too long and he regrets not having made his decision earlier, because it could have saved Daud so much pain. Corvo can feel instinctively that Daud, despite the way he opened up to Corvo over time, is still not used to expressing his feelings openly, but Corvo can _feel_ them. Corvo can feel in every one of Daud’s touches just how much this means to him, their newfound intimacy and Corvo’s forgiveness. Instead of speaking Daud looks at Corvo and then he lowers his head and takes him into his mouth, radiating incredulous wonder.

Within mere moments Corvo is fisting the sheets in his shivering hands, twitching and gasping for air helplessly. Daud’s tongue is swirling across his erection, his mouth wet and deliciously warm. He lifts his head again to be able to look up at Corvo, a brief smirk on his lips, before he bends down again and tugs at Corvo’s foreskin with his teeth, causing Corvo to jerk his hips. Daud happily nudges his nose against the soft skin of Corvo’s arousal and swallows him down again, making little sounds of pleasure in the back of his throat that vibrate against Corvo’s flesh, causing him to moan uncontrollably. Daud’s hand caresses Corvo when he sucks him down deeply, and it’s a matter of only few blissful minutes before Corvo feels that white-hot glow inside him build up. With a violent shiver running through his entire body, he reaches his peak, and Daud keeps him in his mouth, gently sucking on him until he is finished.

When Corvo regains his ability to lift his head after a long while of helplessly gasping for breath, he finds Daud lying on top of his chest, his chin resting on his crossed arms and a knowingly smug grin on his lips. Corvo chuckles and kisses Daud’s nose.

“How’s that, bodyguard?”

Instead of answering Corvo just hums dreamily and rolls his eyes, and the way Daud grins proudly makes his skin crawl with pleasure, adding up to the buzzing satisfaction.

 _What about you?_ Corvo asks, his gaze darting briefly to Daud’s own neglected erection.

Daud smiles softly. “It’s alright. We really should get up. But…”

He hesitates, something insecure and hopeful lighting up his eyes in equal parts.

“I mean… Later, maybe?”

Corvo has to grin as he understands. Daud’s face holds the unspoken question he doesn’t quite dare to voice, asking Corvo whether he’d like to sleep with him again. Whether he liked it enough to repeat it, sharing this with his soulmate.

Of course Corvo had enjoyed it. More than he could possibly put into words.

He nods, and feels his heart beat faster at the way Daud smiles. Daud bends down and presses a lingering kiss on Corvo’s chest.

_I should be at work now, but I don’t want to get up._

“Yeah, me neither. I should get back to my damned investigations too.”

A slight frown crosses Daud’s features, and Corvo knows what he’s thinking about.

_Witches?_

“To the Void with them. We’ve been neglecting them for quite a while during my absence, by lack of a better term. Outsider knows what they’ve managed to come up with in the meantime.”

Corvo nods, frowning himself. Daud is warm and comfortable and smells deliciously of their heated night, and Corvo would love nothing more than to simply stay by his side, tangled in blankets, letting Daud scratch his fingertips over his scalp while holding his hand. But there is still a threat out there they know too little about, and Corvo must refocus on his work, for the sake of Emily and his soulmate.

“I’ll meet up with Thomas this afternoon and you should go see your little monster. Say hello to her from me,” Daud suggests, and Corvo hums his assent. They embrace each other one more time and exchange a slow, thorough kiss before they get up and dress.

Despite the countless mornings they’ve already spent together, their night has changed things in more ways than Corvo had expected. The looks he exchanges with Daud are different, more heated like they are both thinking of a secret shared only between the two of them whenever they see each other.

He decides that he likes the change.

Corvo gives Daud a last kiss before he leaves his quarters, looking for Emily, a smile on his face.

* * *

 

Thomas enters Daud’s office near evening like he was ordered to, Misha in tow.

What is unexpected is that Jenkins accompanies them.

“What is it?” Daud asks immediately, his instincts telling him that something is wrong.

“Sir, remember when I told you about Anthony’s fight with the witch?” Thomas asks, something careful in his voice.

Daud struggles to keep his face neutral as he picks up on the worried tone of his second in command. He recalls that when he reported to his Master about Anthony’s injury, it had been shortly before Daud had had his emotional breakdown, and Daud’s memory around that evening is clouded and filled with gaps. He vaguely remembers Thomas reporting to him about a witch that had attacked Anthony with a gilded sword, and nods to Thomas.

“Well, Sir, we visited the place again where Anthony came across the witch, and it turned out she lost something there. It was a dart, similar in build to the ones filled with the vine-birthing pink liquid, but this one had orange contents.”

Daud furrows his brow and turns to Jenkins. “I assume your presence here is because you found out what new wonder they came up with?” he asks sarcastically.

Jenkins bows. “Master, I did some experiments. Sadly we only had one dart and not many like we had with the pink ones. I tried shooting it on an organic surface like with the pink liquid, but nothing happened. The orange substance doesn’t make vines grow.”

“So it’s a lost cause?”

“Er, no, Sir. In fact, that helped. I have some vines in my laboratory to see if I can find something that destroys them effectively. When I shot the dart it was close to some of our own small vines, and some drops of the liquid got in touch with the nearest plant.”

Daud raises his eyebrows. “And?”

Jenkins looks confused, if Daud can tell by his posture. “Sir, the orange liquid _kills_ the vines.”

Daud starts, taken aback. “Are you sure that’s the purpose of those other darts?”

“I tried it on many of my vines. A few drops are all it takes to turn them into withered leftovers.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Daud growls, annoyed by this new puzzle piece that fails to help in any way. “Why would the witches first go to lengths creating a substance that causes deadly vines to appear and then produce something that kills them again?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing, Master,” Thomas answers. “Jenkins tested it very thoroughly, and it seems that’s the orange liquid’s sole effect.”

Daud hums, lost in thought. Maybe the witches have made this as an antidote against the vines, just in case they get attacked by one of their own creations. Should that be the case, they’ve come up with the formula quite lately, because the witch his men caught in the sewers didn’t have any of those orange darts on her, and she got hurt by a vine. If she had had one of the new darts she wouldn’t have been injured.

Daud voices his thoughts to his men.

“Sir, that could be. The orange darts could be used as an emergency solutions should they get attacked by their own plants,” Thomas muses.

“I still doubt that’s the sole purpose of that stuff,” Daud argues. “It’s a little harsh, creating something that kills the vines instantly instead of developing a formula that simply freezes them or causes them to bend the other way to avoid getting attacked by them. Given the premise that the witches are planning to use the vines as a weapon, they should want to keep them alive and functioning as long as possible. I don’t see what other purpose they might serve. So why create something that kills them?”

Thomas nods, his posture tense and frustrated. Jenkins next to him mirrors his stance. “We’ve not discovered where they hide, yet.”

Daud grunts, pacing in front of his desk. _That_ matter again. It’s as if those damned Brigmores hide in plain sight, somewhere close to the Tower in a building that nobody would ever suspect of hosting a coven of witches.

Daud turns to one of his boards where he had pinned a collection of notes and hints on the witches, including an empty dart and a thistle blossom from the abandoned laboratory underground, connected to the bits of paper with yarn.

“I’ll be damned if the answer isn’t just right in front of us,” Daud growls, staring at the board. He’d been horribly distracted over the last weeks, but finally clearing up the tension between Corvo and him had meant more to him than he could ever put into words. Daud doesn’t regret a single second he spent with his soulmate instead of pondering about the witches, but his instincts tell him he needs to figure it out, and soon.

The witches started their vine-breeding somewhere under the surface of Draper’s Ward as far has he and his men had learned, and moved their makeshift laboratory closer and closer to the Tower, where the Whalers lost their trail. Somebody must have given them shelter, allowing them to watch the Tower and quickly disappear into their hideout as soon as they get spotted. And one of them had been caught by Anthony, who had found out that she didn’t use their customary bone swords anymore, but a gilded, ornamental sword…

Like the one Hendric Pyne had carried during the ball night.

“Lord Pyne!” Daud barks all of a sudden, causing Thomas, Misha and Jenkins to flinch violently.

“Sir?”

Daud turns back towards his board. It’s just a speculation and he can’t prove anything, but it finally seems like a step towards solving that mystery, and he needs to make the pieces fit together.

“The leftover Brigmore witches have holed up with the Pynes. The Pyne mansion is close to the Tower and has a high roof that offers them perfect access to the nearby houses as well as vantage points to watch the Palace. The witch Anthony caught didn’t have one of their customary bone swords, but a gilded ornate sword. Hendric Pyne never leaves the house without one of those ridiculous golden monstrosities,” Daud says.

“Sir, many nobles have weaponry like that. The witch might have stolen it,” Thomas points out.

“True, but there’s a bunch of other things that would fit nicely when we look at it that way. During the ball night, the Pynes put their heads together to talk secretly even more often than usual, and I really doubt they were talking about the wine. Lord Pyne had a thistle blossom stuck to his jacket. Back then I didn’t pay it much mind, but it would make sense with the way we know the witches tend to decorate their surroundings,” Daud argues.

“Now that you mention it, Sir, Lord Pyne has been unusually quiet in court…” Jenkins muses. “Normally he never manages to keep his mouth shut to question every single decision the Empress makes, but as of lately he’s been keeping his head down.”

Daud nods. “I was wondering about that too. I assumed it was because of my visit in his archives, months ago. He knew I had defamatory documents to use against him. I guess he’s been keeping a low profile because of his newest friends, not because he was scared.”

Maybe that had been a mistake, Daud acknowledges wryly. He’d been so sure he’d had Pyne under control and thus never paid his mansion another visit for months. If he had done so, he might have noticed the noble’s possible allies much earlier.

“Lord Pyne is a fucking coward, and his son too,” Misha says. “They’d never have the balls to hook up with a coven of mad witches. Why would they, anyway?”

That’s a question Daud can’t answer yet, and his mind races as he tries to dive deeper into the mystery.

“Pyne has hated the Kaldwins since his family experienced that financial downfall. He’d been a fervent supporter of the Lord Regent and never missed an opportunity to oppose the Empress. I admit I don’t know what they hope to accomplish with working together with them… I doubt they want to kill the Empress. Why would Pyne do that? It wouldn’t make any sense. He can’t bring the Lord Regent back, and he can’t possibly hope to fill the position of the Emperor himself,” Daud snarls, staring at his notes. “So what does that bastard want?”

“Master, I’d suggest we pay him a visit again,” Thomas says, and Daud turns around.

“Agreed.” He turns to Jenkins. “Thank you for your efforts in the lab. Try to find out if there’s another purpose for the orange stuff, just in case. Before you leave, go to the Empress’ study room and tell Attano I wish to talk to him. He’ll want to know. Send Devon, Montgomery, Rulfio and Pickford over. Now.”

Jenkins bows, a fist pressed to his chest in salute, and vanishes in a flurry of blackness.

Daud discusses some of the Whaler’s usual findings with Thomas and Misha, standard observations of things Daud likes to keep any eye on. Rulfio appears soon and briefs Daud about the progress of the latest recruits. A few minutes later, Devon and Pickford arrive, and Corvo follows suit with Montgomery.

Daud returns the Whalers’ bows with a nod and shoots Corvo a smile that he had intended to look subtle, but which probably turned out incredibly smitten. It doesn’t help at all that the smile Corvo returns looks about the same.

 _Greetings from Emily_ , Corvo signs. _Kieron is with her to guard her._

“Thank you,” Daud says.

Corvo joins the group of Whalers, who shuffle and fidget a little, but otherwise remain tolerant towards Corvo’s presence among them. Daud briefly asks himself how quickly the word that he and Corvo are soulmates has spread among his men now that not only Thomas knows about it, and whether this is the reason why their acceptance for Corvo has grown.

“If you’ve talked to Jenkins already, you should know that he found another kind of dart made by the Brigmore witches. It’s something that kills the vines instead of letting them grow, and Outsider’s balls I have no idea why they would do that. On the other hand, considering everything we’ve seen of them so far, I have every reason to assume that our dear friend Lord Pyne is the one to host whatever is left of the coven. And knowing that bastard, whatever they come up with can’t be good.”

Daud waits until the general hum and murmurs of surprise and curses have subsided a little, and settles for watching Corvo’s face to see what his soulmate thinks about it. Corvo looks shocked at first, then contemplating, and then a dark, angry glint settles in his eyes, and Daud knows he agrees.

Daud steps forward and inhales to speak, and his men fall silent immediately, radiating determined excitement now that they finally see a possible clue to follow.

“I know, it’s just a guess. Anyone can have thistle flowers stuck to their jacket, and that gilded sword the witch used against Anthony could have been any noble’s. But it would make sense, and we can’t search every damn mansion around the Tower without getting in trouble. In Dunwall, bad things have a habit of sticking together like river krusts, and if the witches are actually planning an assault like we suspected they would, the Pynes would be only too happy to support that. The only question is what in the Void they are hoping to accomplish.”

Corvo moves his hands, and Daud immediately switches his attention to him.

_You should visit them again. With only a few men, preferably._

Daud voices Corvo’s signs, and adds: “You won’t accompany us?”

Corvo, furrowing his elegant brows, shakes his head. _We don’t know when the witches will strike, and what they will do exactly. I want to stay with Emily and exchange news with you as soon as you have it._

Daud nods, understanding. As much as he would have liked to have Corvo by his side, just to know he’s safe, to be able to keep an eye on him, he knows Corvo’s own duties. Daud also respects Corvo’s deep urge to protect his daughter while facing this still mysterious threat. Corvo can take care of himself, Daud has to acknowledge wryly, even if there’s his strong need to stay with his soulmate that had only intensified since they had shared a bed.

“We’ll organize a signal chain. Should anything go wrong or if we find out something you need to know immediately, we’ll make sure you get the news,” Daud promises.

 Corvo nods, something thankful in his eyes, and Pickford speaks up.

“Attano has a point when he said we should go in with only a few men, Sir. Going by the number of beds we found in the laboratory, there are at least a dozen witches left, and the Pynes have a flock of housemaids and servants. There will be a lot of people in the mansion, and a smaller group is less likely to get spotted.”

Daud nods, smiling inwardly. He doesn’t regret his decision to grant Pickford a rise in rank, the young Whaler had done more than well over the last months and continues to do so.

Following a ground-in routine, Daud mulls a possible scheme of patrol patterns and routes over in his mind, and, despite the urgency of the situation, Daud finds he’s enjoying it. It’s good to be back in what he’s best at. Back then, when the Outsider had given Daud his mark, whispering to him about how he would change the course of history, he’d reveled in the thought of making a difference. It had made him feel powerful, and the urge to be in control, setting things in motion from the background, is still a deeply rooted part of Daud’s personality, but now, some things have changed. Everything he does, he does for Corvo, an ultimate goal that motivates him in a way he’s never experienced before. Daud has a _purpose_ now. A devotion.

He’d never known how much he had needed this.

 _When will you begin? The sooner the better_ , Corvo signs.

Daud paces, a frown of concentration on his face. “As far as we know the witches have an excellent network of sentries all around the manor, and quickly retreat as soon as they get spotted to alert their sisters. They also watch the Tower. We’ll have to wait for a good opportunity to sneak past the sentries into the mansion, maybe when they switch patrols.”

Daud stops his pacing and continues. “I want you to watch the Pyne mansion and the surrounding estates at all times and report to me of their patrol patterns, so we can figure out the best moment to break in unseen. We know now where they hide, so it shouldn’t be a problem to track them. I want to get this done soon, so refocus all of your groups on that task, and don’t fucking get seen, is that clear? When we’re there, I want Misha and Devon to take position with their groups outside of the mansion, at call. Should we run into any trouble, you’ll go in and join the party. Thomas, Rulfio and Pickford are coming with me inside.”

At Daud’s words, Misha visibly tenses up.

“Any questions? Good. Pick your patrol squads and keep an eye on the Pyne mansion. Something tells me they’re about to take the gloves off. We need to hurry,” Daud concludes, and signals his men his dismissal.

With that, his men bow, and get ready to leave for their headquarter. Daud notices from the corner of his eye that Misha pulls Thomas aside and whispers urgently to him, holding his hands. Daud knows they are soulmates, and he remembers from the assault on Brigmore manor that Thomas had suffered a bad wound and since then Misha had been utterly distressed whenever she’s about to get separated from him during a mission.

Back then, Daud hadn’t cared. Now, things have changed.

“Pickford?” he calls, and the young Whaler lets his glowing left hand sink down again.

“You’ll switch places with Misha. She’s coming in with Rulfio, Thomas and me as soon as we leave for the witches. Pick yourself a squad. You’ve earned it.”

Pickford blushes and bows thankfully, and vanishes with a smile. Misha, who had fallen silent upon hearing her name, visibly relaxes in relief now that she and Thomas are in the same team. Thomas pushes up her mask and presses a quick kiss on her lips, and then she vanishes.

Thomas makes to stride over to Daud. “Master… tha…”

“Don’t. It’s alright.”

Thomas settles for a deep bow, and then he’s gone as well, leaving Daud and Corvo alone in his quarters.

Corvo joins Daud’s side as he stands in front of his board, adding a note to the existing ones.

_Why did you just write ‘Lord Estermont suspicious behavior’? I thought we are after the Pynes?_

“Just in case somebody manages to read my notes. It’s called setting your enemies on the wrong track, Attano,” Daud says with a smirk on his face.

Corvo hums, his voice muffled by pressing his lips against the back of Daud’s neck as he wraps the other man in his arms. Daud growls and lets himself sink back in Corvo’s embrace, turning his head a little so Corvo can nip at the shell of his ear.

“I thought about you all day, you know,” Daud says softly, and despite his attempt at sounding suggestive he ends up sounding like a smitten fool, but he’s beyond caring.

Corvo hums his assent, and he starts digging his hands into Daud’s shoulders, causing Daud to gasp with enjoyment as strong fingers ease the tension in his muscles. He shrugs off his coat, wearing only a thin shirt, and turns around to face Corvo.

Corvo’s groan vibrates pleasantly against Daud’s mouth when he kisses him, slowly and passionately. He manages to discard Corvo’s coat as well, pushing it over his broad shoulders, and it doesn’t take long until they are both fumbling with the other’s buttons and laces, letting out desperate little gasps.

Suddenly, Corvo makes an urgent sound, and Daud stops immediately, searching his face.

“Anything wrong?”

Corvo, face flushed and pupils dark, gently shakes his head and offers him an apologetic smile.

_I should check up on Emily. I can’t let Kieron do all the work._

“Oh, trust me, you can. He loves the little monster,” Daud rasps, proceeding to undo the buttons of his shirt. Corvo huffs out a short laugh and grabs Daud’s wrists to still his hands.

Daud falls silent when Corvo kisses his forehead.

_I mean it. She needs me to wish her good night. But after that…_

Here Corvo hesitates, something sheepish and suggestive in his eyes, before he continues.

_I can leave a window open._

Daud blinks, and then he smirks lopsidedly. “Is that an invitation?”

Corvo averts his gaze, blushing heavily, but then he nods, causing Daud’s heart to tumble with joy. To be honest, Daud wouldn’t have been surprised if Corvo had preferred to keep the pacing of their amorous adventures slow and let some time pass before they have sex a second time, to get used to the thought of having an intimate relationship with his soulmate. As much as Corvo had enjoyed it, Daud can sense he’d been nervous and still taking some time to adapt to this rapid change in the closeness of their bond, and by all means Daud wouldn’t have minded. He’s willing to give Corvo all the space and patience he needs if it makes him comfortable with their new arrangement, but if Corvo is willing to sleep with him once more after such a short break, Daud is more than happy to comply.

“See you later, then? In your quarters?”

Corvo nods. _I’ll light candles for you._

Daud snarls playfully and nips at Corvo’s lip when he says goodbye. Daud stares after him when he leaves, a part of him wanting to call him to stop, to tell him all the things he doesn’t dare to voice, to let him know that...

But he doesn’t.

* * *

 

“Breanna, are you sure that it works? If there’s so much as a scratch on my son after this… exercise, I’ll have you held responsible for it!”

“Father, I can do this. It’s just an oversized leek, what could it possibly do?” Hendric Pyne drawls and pointedly steps closer to the whipping plant in front of him, but then the vine lashes out against him and he jumps back with a high-pitched shriek.

“My dear Lord, I assure you, we tested it very thoroughly. It works all too well. Young Hendric, why don’t you try it out?” Breanna suggests.

The Brigmore witches are gathered around the flowerpots with some of the smaller vines bred and held in the large hall of Pyne mansion, watching the young one. He is standing in front of one of the bigger vines, eyeing the plant suspiciously, and his father watches from a safe distance a little further away.

“I’ll try it out when I feel like it, is that clear?” Hendric says, failing to hide his sudden fear after the vine lashed out for him. He’s clutching the perfume bottle in his trembling hand, holding it out like a shield. “Also, I need to talk to Catlyn. She’s made a scratch in my favorite sword. Is that any way to treat a present?”

“Swords are made for getting scratches,” Catlyn growls, but falls silent when Breanna shoots her a glare. Breanna Ashworth turns back to Hendric Pyne.

“Try it.”

And he does, and it works perfectly.

Later, when the Pynes have left for dinner, the witches gather around Lady Ashworth, holding hands.

“We are going to help the old one and the young one get what they want, are we not, dear Lady Ashes?” one of them asks, stroking her sister’s delicate hand.

“Yes, we are. But only to a point,” Breanna answers quietly. “Everything has a price.”

“Only to a point.”

“They’ve been so very useful, my dear.”

“Such a pretty home. Like a palace.”

“They’ll continue to help us, my dear sisters,” Breanna says, voice almost a whisper. “But we won’t need them all the time.”

“Only to a point.”

“Yes, my dear. Only to a point.”


	18. Chapter 18

**XVIII.**

The sun sets behind a cover of dark gray clouds when Daud transverses through the window Corvo left open for him, and a part of him feels strangely thrilled while doing so, as if he’s a young man sneaking furtively into the room of a secret lover. The fluttering anticipation heating up his stomach is something Daud hasn’t felt in a long time, and while he chides himself for behaving like a lovestruck idiot he’s also feeling so young again that he doesn’t quite manage to not enjoy it to its fullest.

When Daud closes the window behind him, glancing around Corvo’s bedroom eagerly, his excitement gets a little damper because his soulmate is nowhere to be seen. The room is murky, lit only by candles – something Corvo had done for Daud, knowing he prefers candlelight, and he smiles inwardly at the sight – that cast long, flickering shadows on the wood panels and tapestries covering the walls. Corvo’s bed is made for once, and when Daud steps closer, he notices a piece of paper on the blanket. He frowns briefly and picks it up, holding it closer to a candle to read it.

_I’m in the bathtub._

Daud’s eyebrows rise.

There is still the possibility that Corvo put this here in case a maid or watch officer showed up, to make sure he didn’t get disturbed, because nobody would have the audacity to run into the infamous Lord Protector while he’s taking a bath, but that doesn’t help to quench the heated knot of flutters that Daud’s stomach suddenly turns into when he approaches Corvo’s bathroom. Not in the least.

His heartbeat hammering in his chest for reasons he can’t even name entirely, Daud carefully knocks on the door. Inside, he can hear Corvo clear his throat, something Daud knows he does to signal that he may come in.

When Daud opens the door to the bathroom he is enveloped by a shroud of warm steam. The fresh, subtle scent of lye, herbs and lemon wafts through the air and shines in the candles Corvo had placed in every corner of the room. He sits in his bathtub, covered in a pile of foam up to his chest, and smiles almost a little sheepishly at Daud when he enters.

Daud smiles back, picking up on the nervousness Corvo is radiating. He hurries to approach Corvo with a pronouncedly casual expression, resting his gaze on Corvo’s face. It’s hard not to let his own self-consciousness show, because the sight of Corvo’s whiskey-brown eyes and beautiful tanned skin bathed in soft candlelight is enough to make Daud’s throat feel absolutely useless, and his lower abdomen is stirring with interest. Still, Daud can sense Corvo is feeling a little exposed in this situation, and he doesn’t want his soulmate to feel like he’s trying to take advantage of anything he doesn’t feel comfortable with.

Daud stops in front of the bathtub and sits on the edge. He makes a point of not devouring Corvo with his eyes yet while he’s sitting there naked until he knows whether that’s what Corvo wants, because Daud can feel the leftover anxiety from Corvo when it comes to exposing himself like this to his soulmate, and he’s more than willing to give him all the space he needs. Still, Corvo looks stunning, and it’s hard not to let his gaze wander south.

“Why is your bathtub so much bigger than mine?” Daud asks, not quite managing to keep the suggestive rasp from his voice.

Corvo grins and lifts his hands from the steaming water. _I’m the bodyguard, remember? I have to smell nice._

“And that grants you the privilege of a bigger bathtub?”

_Emily liked to refer to your predecessor as stinky old spymaster. Maybe that’s the reason._

“You charmer,” Daud retorts, dropping his voice to a low rumble. He gets the feeling that Corvo actually likes the sound of his voice, because Daud can see the shiver running through Corvo’s shoulders.

They smile at each other, until Corvo lifts one hand from the water and holds it out to Daud. Their fingers entwine, and neither of them speaks for a long moment, content to marvel at the sight of how beautifully their hands fit together, black tattoos contrasting with tanned skin.

Finally, Corvo draws his hand back and rests his arms on the rim of the tub, raising one eyebrow with something decidedly heated in his gaze.

“Care to make some space for the stinky old spymaster?” Daud asks, picking up on Corvo’s suggestive glare.

Corvo just jerks his head towards the water, and Daud starts undressing. He’s doing so quickly and efficiently, but he’s also aware of Corvo’s eyes tracing the movements of his fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt and pants, and the way his gaze deepens when Daud is completely naked. Daud pads over to the bathtub, gauging Corvo’s expression upon seeing him.

To Daud’s endless delight, a lot of the former hesitation has disappeared from Corvo’s face. He’s looking at Daud with gentle appreciation, pupils wide and black, and under his dark, heated gaze Daud feels himself harden without being able to do anything about it. He’s not trying to hide it in any way, and feels a lopsided grin tugging at his lips when he sees Corvo’s eyes briefly darting down to his stirring arousal.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” Daud asks softly.

Corvo seems to consider this for a moment before he scoots forward in the bathtub to make some space behind him. Daud grins and climbs into the bathtub behind Corvo, circling him with his limbs and pressing his chest flush against his back. Daud sighs deeply when the steaming water envelops him and drops his forehead against Corvo’s back. The heat seeps into his muscles and everything that had been tense or stressed suffuses into the scent of herbs and lye and Corvo.

Daud only notices that Corvo had been speaking when the water sloshes around him.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Corvo turns his head back over his shoulder a little to make sure Daud can see his gestures, and Daud notices he’s looking worried.

_I said I was thinking about the Pynes, and the witches. We don’t know what they will do. If they will hurt Emily. I won’t allow that._

“And neither will I.”

Daud embraces Corvo from behind, pressing him close. He brushes some strands of his hair from the back of his neck and kisses his warm, damp skin. Corvo leans back into Daud and shudders with pleasure at the contact, but his hands keep moving.

_But the witches…_

Daud grips Corvo’s hands and gently stills their motion. He is aware that this is like covering one’s mouth with his hands for Corvo, preventing him from talking, and he makes sure to keep his grip light, allowing Corvo to proceed if he wishes. He doesn’t, though, and Daud presses his lips against the back of Corvo’s neck in soothing little kisses.

“Every time you speak it reminds me that we have much more in common than I ever thought. You’re also worrying too much. I know it’s a damn mystery and let me tell you, I hate it as much as you do, but for now there’s nothing we can do about it. We have made our plan, so let’s stick to that. Relax, Corvo,” Daud rumbles against Corvo’s skin.

Eventually, Corvo nods, and his hands entwine tightly with Daud’s, giving them a thankful squeeze. They remain in the bathtub for a long time blissfully tangled in each other’s limbs, at first just lying there, enjoying the heat seeping through their strained bodies. After a while, Corvo lets go of Daud’s hands and instead runs his palms over Daud’s legs under the water left and right of him, as if exploring the relief of his muscles. Daud wraps Corvo in his arms and absently traces the lines of scars on Corvo’s skin, pale against the pretty olive tone. His fingers travel around Corvo’s ribcage until he’s caressing his chest, and before he can stop himself his fingertips gently circle Corvo’s nipples. Corvo gasps softly and tenses up, but he presses into the touch instead of jerking away. Daud realizes that Corvo can most probably feel his erection against the small of his back, but Corvo doesn’t seem to mind.

Feeling dizzy and light-headed by the hot, humid air around them, Daud ventures a little further, letting his hands creep down the beautiful ridges of Corvo’s abdominal muscles until they rest on his hipbones, waiting. Corvo lets out a quiet moan, arching his back, and then his hands move away from where he was caressing Daud’s thighs and push Daud’s hands further down. Daud wraps his fingers around Corvo’s erection, eliciting another breathy moan from him. His head is pounding with heat and he’s so aroused that he can hear his own heartbeat, and he stops after a few strokes.

Corvo lets out a protesting little whine, but Daud just presses his face against the back of his head, nuzzling his lips against the shell of Corvo’s ear.

“Bed?”

Corvo nods breathlessly and climbs out of the bathtub.

Daud follows him and has barely made it to stand upright when Corvo grabs his head and pulls him in for a biting kiss, and Daud groans against his mouth. They are both still wet from the hot water and dripping puddles on the stone tiles under their feet. While they kiss, their skin dries more or less, but they are still damp when Daud drags Corvo over to his bed and shoves him onto the mattress. Daud throws himself over him, bracing himself on his elbows while he sinks his teeth into Corvo’s neck, Corvo’s hands roaming all over Daud’s body.

Corvo lets out a long, drawn-out moan, an example of his lost voice, beautiful and deep, causing Daud to feel drunk with desire. He prowls further down, feeling Corvo’s hands raking through his hair and over his shoulders, and when he cups a nipple with his lips and sucks Corvo all but cries out.

Daud jerks his head up. “Fuck, did I hurt you?”

Corvo blinks, eyes bleary with want. When he notices Daud’s concerned gaze, he grins widely and chuckles.

_You don’t have to treat me with silk gloves. Stop being so worried._

Corvo’s words are delivered with a touched, affectionate smile, and Daud returns it.

“I’m not worried. I just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. You’re new to this and I am too.”

Corvo tilts his head. _You too?_

“I… I’ve never been with somebody I actually cared about. You… I want to make it nice for you. Everything.”

At that, Corvo throws Daud a long, dark gaze, the kind that seems to bore into his very soul, searching for answers Daud isn’t quite sure of himself. Eventually, Corvo beckons Daud to come closer, and Daud rests his weight on top of Corvo, their lips meeting for a long, thorough kiss. When they part again, Corvo brings his hands in the small gap between them to sign.

_I trust you. You won’t do anything I don’t like. And if I want you to stop, I’ll let you know._

Corvo repeats the gesture they used during their first time, two short taps against Daud’s arm signaling Daud to stop. Daud manages a nod, not trusting his voice after Corvo’s words, and settles for another kiss, deep and growling and biting, and he groans when Corvo rakes his fingernails across the tattoo on his back. Corvo’s hands then move down Daud’s back until they rest on his cheeks, and Daud grins down at Corvo wolfishly when he squeezes the firm muscle. Encouraged by that, one of Corvo’s hands moves into the thin gap between them to wrap strong, calloused fingers around Daud’s length while the other still rests on the muscle of his cheek, and Daud fails miserably to fight back the deep groan that escapes him when Corvo’s hand starts moving.

It’s a delight to see Corvo getting more confident with this, initiating things he had hesitated to do before, seeing the lust blazing in his beautiful eyes when Daud moans. His determination being fanned back to life, Daud returns his lips to Corvo’s neck, pressing kisses on his warm skin, slowly making his way down. His tongue swirls around Corvo’s nipple and his soulmate’s gasps cause him to smirk.

When Daud reaches Corvo’s throbbing erection he hungrily presses his lips against the soft skin of his shaft, reveling in the feeling of heated flesh against his mouth. He can hear Corvo’s breath hitch and throws him another gaze, steel gray meeting hazel brown, before he closes his lips around Corvo’s erection. He swirls his tongue around the tip and sucks him down, and by the Void the sounds Corvo makes would be enough to drive Daud over the brink if it wasn’t for him dragging this out as long as possible. It’s so utterly wonderful Daud can barely get a hold of the assault of feelings rushing through his head, causing him to get lost in the sensation. Completely drunk with want, he moves his lips from Corvo’s erection further down, kissing the insides of his thighs, and before he knows himself he’s swiping the flat of his tongue over Corvo’s perineum.

Two taps on his shoulder stop him, and Daud looks up.

“Anything wrong?”

Corvo looks not entirely insecure, but at least a little taken aback. _What are you doing?_

Daud smirks, gently running a hand over Corvo’s taut thigh. “Pleasing you?”

Corvo huffs, returning the smile. _Did you try to…?_

He doesn’t finish his sentence, hands hovering in mid air, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face.

Daud realizes what he’s suspecting Daud wanted to do, and by the Outsider he’s right. Daud _burns_ to do this for him, tasting him in that way, but he won’t if Corvo doesn’t want it.

“I’d like to kiss you. Everywhere,” he answers, dropping his voice to a low rumble.

Corvo blushes heavily and blinks. _You can’t possibly like that._

“I will, I know it. Please, Corvo.”

Corvo makes a mildly put off face, obviously still unfamiliar with most kinds of caresses of that particular region of his body.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about. And you just took a bath, don’t worry about me. At least give it a try. If you don’t like it I’ll stop,” Daud promises, pressing a kiss to Corvo’s knee.

Corvo’s soft, dark gaze deepens, and finally, he nods, opening his thighs a little. Dizzy with want, Daud presses a kiss to the tip of Corvo’s erection and moves down, gently parting his cheeks with his hands. He starts with breathing against Corvo’s entrance, his exhale warming the ring of muscle, and grins when he hears Corvo’s surprised gasp at the new sensation. Daud makes an experimental lick against Corvo’s entrance. When Corvo moans, Daud continues with careful, quick touches with the tip of his tongue. Corvo’s hips jerk and he lets out a gasp that drags out into a long, deep moan when Daud swipes the flat of his tongue over the ring of muscle. He leisurely repeats the motion a few times before settling for gentle taps again, and judging by the way Corvo shivers Daud’s caresses are going over well.

He stops, though, and grins smugly at the protesting whine Corvo lets out.

“Turn around.”

Corvo immediately obeys and rolls on his stomach, and Daud bends down again and gently parts Corvo’s cheeks with his hands, continuing his caresses. His tongue draws patterns over Corvo’s entrance, spirals and zigzags and letters. Daud breathes warmly on his flesh, smiling at the way it makes Corvo shudder. He licks up to his tailbone, causing Corvo to gasp and twitch, and then returns his attention back down, massaging Corvo’s cheeks with his palms. Corvo is so delicious that Daud feels he’s going to faint at any moment while at the same time enjoying Corvo’s pleasure with abandon, reveling in the sounds of his moans and the taste of his flesh. Eventually, Daud licks one finger and gently prods the tip against the ring of muscle and presses in a little, biting his lip when it slides in without any effort. He curls his finger, looking for that sweet spot. He knows he found it when Corvo arches his back and muffles his cry by biting the sheets, rocking back against Daud’s hand. Hungrily licking around his digit, Daud adds a second finger, gently working Corvo open while whispering encouragements. When he pulls his fingers out, he can feel how relaxed Corvo is by now and bends forward, pressing his tongue in as far as it would go. Feeling Corvo around his tongue is enough to fan Daud’s own neglected erection to the border of painful, but Corvo is so delicious that Daud can’t bring himself to stop. Daud pulls his tongue out and replaces it with three fingers, feeling drunk with want at the way Corvo groans and shivers.

A hand caresses his hair and he looks up to see that Corvo had turned a little, gazing back over his shoulder with blown pupils. Daud understands, and pushes himself up so that Corvo can roll on his back again. He immediately pulls Daud close for a kiss, and Daud groans helplessly when Corvo wraps his legs around his middle, grinding their stomachs together and trapping their leaking erections between them.

Shaking hands move, and Daud somehow manages to read the gestures despite the blissful haze blurring out his vision.

_You are wonderful._

“Corvo…” Daud groans, not able to respond in any other way than to kiss his soulmate, this beautiful, strange man that slowly becomes more familiar than anyone else he’s ever known in his life. Daud slicks himself with the oil Corvo had produced from a nightstand, as if he’d hoped for this to happen, and that realization only fans the embers of Daud’s desire to a point that almost hurts. Every nerve in Daud’s body sings with wonder when he slowly enters Corvo, feeling the man’s ragged breaths against his lips. His head drones with bliss when he starts moving in time with his soulmate, mirroring Corvo’s soft gasps following each and every one of his thrusts. It’s so utterly breathtaking that Daud feels like he’s falling, dissolving, similar to the plunging sensation when he steps from an island in the Void only to find himself back in the same spot after an otherworldly fall. It’s so much better, though, seeing Corvo writhe and groan in front of him, the bathwater from before replaced with a sheen of sweat covering his flexing muscles.

Daud bends forward over Corvo, presses his forehead to his, moving inside him with abandon and feeling Corvo respond in kind. It’s a matter of moments until Daud is feeling himself being pushed over the edge, and he reaches between them to stroke Corvo.

“Want me to pull out before I come?” Daud manages to breathe in Corvo’s ear, remembering Corvo’s unease the last time.

To his endless delight, Corvo shakes his head, shivering with tension and arching his hips against Daud, desperate not to lose their rhythm.

“Fuck… Corvo…” Daud all but breathes helplessly into the mess of Corvo’s hair next to his face, and feels trembling hands cupping his jaw.

Corvo gently grabs Daud’s head and turns it so that their eyes lock, and even if Daud is so damn close that he has trouble keeping his eyes open he can’t tear them away from Corvo’s gaze, dark and hypnotizing, and Daud feels himself drowning in it.

He comes, finally, every muscle in his body tense as a bowstring, and Corvo _feels_ it, letting out a long gasp before he lets his head fall back. Daud somehow manages to keep caressing Corvo’s erection and a second later he feels a sticky liquid dribbling over his fingers. He keeps stroking Corvo until he’s stopped trembling and his iron grip on Daud’s arms loosens a little, and Corvo’s deep groans turn into irregular little gasps.

Completely spent, Daud lets himself fall on Corvo, boneless and gasping for breath. Corvo immediately wraps him in his arms and legs, ragged breaths ghosting through Daud’s hair somewhere next to his ear, and the sound is everything he can hear beside the low drone in his head.

They remain like that for a long while until Corvo finally gently pushes against Daud’s shoulders, and he complies by rolling to the side, looping an arm around Corvo. Corvo follows him and nestles closely against Daud’s chest.

Daud’s ears ring and there’s spots dancing in front of his eyes from the intensity of his peak, but that only heightens his shaky euphoria. He lets out a hoarse chuckle and turns his head to press a kiss against Corvo’s damp forehead. Corvo grins against Daud’s chest where he’s tucked his head, and one of his hands travels down Daud’s stomach, fingertips tracing the lines of his muscles. There is a smudge of semen on Daud’s abdomen, mirroring the one on Corvo’s stomach, and Daud watches as Corvo dreamily draws a circle through one of the puddles with his fingertip, lazily resting his weight against Daud as if there’s no other place in the world he’d rather be. Daud is still drunk with satisfaction and turns his head to nuzzle his nose into Corvo’s hair, reveling in his scent while he holds him as close as possible.

“My beautiful Corvo,” he growls quietly, and immediately bites his tongue and tenses up as he realizes that he had just said his thoughts out loud. Daud can feel Corvo tense up in his embrace and he’s cursing himself for losing his self control like that. Surprisingly, though, Corvo reacts by pushing himself up a little until they are facing each other, that unreadable smile on his features, eyes still black with lust.

 _My soulmate_ , Corvo mouths silently, and upon seeing the desperate expression on Daud’s face as he tries not to say anything else he’ll regret later, Corvo just leans forward and kisses Daud with a gentleness that makes him shiver with emotions he can’t name for the life of him. They exchange a careful smile, both strangely aware of the things hovering unspoken between them but too touched and happy to worry about anything. Daud pulls Corvo close again, hiding his face in the tangled mess of his hair, and Corvo responds in kind.

“Outsider’s balls, you are driving me insane,” Daud purrs eventually, feeling his raw throat protest. Corvo shivers with pleasure when he hears his ruined voice and answers with a quiet laugh. Corvo’s hands move, and Daud cracks eyes open he’d closed halfway to see what he’s saying.

_We should get ourselves cleaned up._

Daud glances down on the mess on his stomach and realizes Corvo must be even worse off, and he makes to get up to fetch them a towel. Corvo’s hand pushes him back, though, and Daud watches as Corvo pads over to his bathroom. He returns with a wet cloth, cleaning up his own belly, and then he sits beside Daud and wipes away the remainders of their peak from Daud’s stomach. He drops the cloth next to the bed and pulls a blanket over both of them, covering them up to their waists.

“How are you feeling?” Daud wants to know, pulling Corvo close once more.

Corvo just answers with a wide, silly grin, causing Daud to chuckle. “Same here. Nothing hurt?”

_Just a little sore. Not too bad. I think I’m getting used to it._

“That’s good to hear,” Daud replies, pressing a kiss to Corvo’s nose. Corvo motions for Daud to turn around, and Daud complies, lying on his side with Corvo spooning him. He can feel Corvo pressing up against his back, his warm breath ghosting through his hair. Corvo’s warm fingertips trace the lines on Daud’s back, something he’s making a habit of, Daud notices. He doesn’t mind in the least. The gentle, rhythmic touch makes him pleasantly drowsy. He is leaden with satisfaction, every muscle in his body relaxed and pleasantly tired. After a while, Daud can feel Corvo push himself up until he’s able to bring his hands into Daud’s field of vision to sign.

_What do they mean?_

“Which one? Most of the tattoos have different meanings,” Daud murmurs.

Corvo presses a kiss against Daud’s ear, causing him to purr with pleasure, before he returns to his spot, lying pressed closely against Daud’s back. Daud can feel Corvo’s fingers trace the knotted, triangular patterns on his shoulder blades.

“That one? That’s a design from an ancient weather vane. They found some of those on flag poles around Pandyssian temples. They turn with the wind. The Academy of Natural Philosophy had a few of them,” Daud explains, remembering him standing among the exhibits in the expedition hall of the Academy, musing whether his mother had seen the weather vanes too when she lived there. He can hear Corvo make a soft sound of appreciation, and his fingertips travel on, over the scale-like patterns following Daud’s spine. Daud hesitates a moment before explaining it, his brief tenseness melting away under Corvo’s touch.

“That’s a pattern from an ancient armor, found in a crypt deep under a jungle temple. It belonged to a female war chief or a queen of some kind who was buried there. I had the pattern inked on my back because the story of the woman reminded me of my mother. She was… she was strong. I admired her.”

Daud admired her more than anyone else, and the mere thought makes his throat feel too tight.

As if he had read his mind, Corvo’s hand creeps down to grab Daud’s, briefly tangling his fingers into his and giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze, as if thanking him for telling him. Daud inhales deeply, glad that Corvo can’t see his face, but even if he could, he’s at a point of trusting Corvo that he wouldn’t even mind.

Corvo’s hand keeps roaming over Daud’s complex tattoos, each of them with a little story behind, protection or empowerment or simply something that interested him during his years of studying and research. Some of the tattoos are so personal that Daud prefers to not even think about them most of the time. Still, he doesn’t mind telling Corvo, because it feels like he’s allowing himself to expose a carefully hidden part of his soul, stripping away all the layers of armor until he’s naked. He tells Corvo about the runes on his shoulder that are supposed to grant the wearer bravery in battle and help to never lose one’s path. He tells him about the knotted lines symbolizing a Pandyssian snake god, a beast able to turn the tides and the weather in its favor.

It’s not that Daud actually believes the symbols help him more than his skills or years of relentless training, but at points in his life he had decided to include them in the mass of memories and patterns, everything that spiked his interest. He tells Corvo about the chain of spells around his Outsider’s mark, something he had had made at a point in which his powers had gotten the better of him, leaving him shuddering with anger at the strange deity. He’d killed the tattoo artist after he’d finished, still reeling from confusion and anger and afraid the artist would spread the word of the _other_ mark on his hand, something that he had regretted shortly after. Daud had never regretted the mass of protective charms and symbols around his mark though, because even if they hardly have any effect on the influence of the Outsider, their presence used to give him a sense of being in control when his relationship with the black eyed bastard went askew.

_And this one?_

A pattern of intricate black lines covers Daud’s right wrist and hand like a fingerless glove, but the tattoo is incomplete. The back of his hand has an empty spot, and Corvo had obviously noticed. It is a very personal one that over time Daud had grown to dislike, starting when he found out that he had a soulmate, and growing worse the more his relationship with Corvo changed. Now, the tattoo feels utterly wrong, but Daud still decides to tell Corvo the story behind it.

“For most of my life, I was convinced I didn’t have a soulmate, and I was glad I didn’t. Nobody deserved to have my shitty handwriting etched into his beautiful back.”

At his sarcastic tone, Corvo chuckles into his ear and presses a kiss against the back of Daud’s neck, nuzzling his nose in his hair and pressing as close as he can, reassuring Daud even if he knows it was a joke. Daud continues.

“My mother told me it didn’t matter, that even without a mark people could find their own way, and happiness. My father was her soulmate, but they broke apart even before I was born. I remember how she cut the skin on her arm where her soulmate mark was, crossing it out with a sharp knife. Her attitude towards romantic soulmate fairytales was a little biased, you can imagine. Still, when she was still together with my father, they both had a traditional Pandyssian tattoo made, a matching set connecting both partners. My mother had a pattern covering her right hand, like this one. It kind of resembles the wedding ring tradition here in the Empire, just more permanent. A token of love and a life-long bond. In the center, on the back of the hand, was a symbol referring to her partner. When they parted ways she regretted having it made, as it would always remind her of him. She wished she could remove it.”

Corvo doesn’t make a sound nor does he move, gently waiting for Daud to continue as if he feels how hard this is for him. Lost in thought, Daud lifts his right hand and inspects the black tattoo covering it, similar to the one his mother despised so much, but with the back of his hand a blank spot.

“She was a strong woman. Proud of her independence. She taught me I didn’t need anyone. It always gave me a sting when she stared at her right hand, the symbol of the partner who disappointed her so much, as if she wished for it to be gone. I believed for a long time I would never feel bonded to anyone, and had the tattoo made in her honor, with an empty spot where the partner’s symbol should be, like she always wanted to. That’s how I remember her. Alone and unbound. How I wanted to be.”

Daud doesn’t quite know how and if to explain why he had come to dislike the tattoo.

Why his wish to remain unbound had faded the closer he had grown to Corvo.

Luckily, Corvo either picks up on Daud’s morose mood or on his inability to voice his feeling about this, because he doesn’t question him further. Corvo gives his right hand a little squeeze, the pad of his thumb brushing gently over the blank spot in the center of the pattern. Corvo’s hand moves warmly over Daud’s flank and he can feel lips touching his shoulder, and Daud allows himself to close his eyes for a moment, swallowing down a mess of painful memories. Corvo continues his caresses until he feels that Daud had calmed down, and tickles a tattoo covering Daud’s ribs in a questioning way, and Daud supplies him with the story behind it, glad about the change of subject.

Strangely enough, Daud doesn’t feel exposed in an uncomfortable way when he tells Corvo about the meanings of the images covering his skin, even if they are incredibly private. Daud feels… open. Unguarded. Vulnerable in a way that Daud tolerates because the one seeing him like this is his soulmate, and this is new.

What Corvo does to him is something Daud had never experienced before in this particular way.

Daud is not entirely sure if he can dare to name it.

When Corvo presses close against his back, radiating gentle heat and smelling subtly of their earlier liaison, covering Daud in strong arms, he’s sure that he can’t live without in anymore.

* * *

 

They stick to Daud’s orders and carefully watch the Pyne mansion as well as the Tower premises, and Corvo feels an only too familiar prickle in the back of his neck resulting from a constant sense of alertness. He knows the witches are around and while the Whalers and Daud are waiting for the right moment to strike, Corvo’s nerves are reeling from a constant thrum of being on guard.

His newfound intimacy with Daud is almost enough to let him forget.

Almost, that is. Days pass, and despite Corvo spending most of his time with Emily, scanning every inch of her surroundings with all the eyes he can spare, he and Daud somehow manage to set some time aside for each other. It’s not always nighttime, but also afternoons, sharing passionate kisses while their coffee gets cold, mornings spent in bed longer than they should but not willing to part from each other’s warm arms, lunch breaks that turn into quick breathing and hungry touches until they both desperately struggle to rid the other of their clothing, the food forgotten. It seems like Daud had been pining for a more physical relationship with his soulmate for so long in such a desperate way that he now tries to make up for every lost second by doubling the passion he puts into their romantic encounters, and Corvo is only too happy to give it all back, every single touch and every heated kiss.

It’s almost a little astounding how quickly Corvo gets used to this, to sharing intimacies like that with Daud, as if he’s been ready for this since the day they met. Corvo knows that’s not the case, that their relationship had needed a lot of time and patience to ripen to reach the point they are at now. A part of Corvo’s heart will always beat for Jessamine and her alone, but he finds himself able to carefully set that part of him aside to look forward, cherishing his memories with fondness and thankfulness to focus on the present, on his soulmate.

There is still the matter of the witches that cast a shadow over their newfound intimacy, and Corvo is not entirely sure if that’s the only reason for the occasional worried shadow crossing Daud’s features when he looks at Corvo.

Intending to get the latest news on the Whalers’ investigations, Corvo enters Daud’s quarters to pick up Emily, who should by now be done with her wristbow lesson. Corvo closes the door behind him and hears Emily’s excited chattering interchanging with Daud’s low rumble somewhere from where his desk stands, close to the window front behind a folding screen. Corvo smiles inwardly, feeling a warm surge heating up his heart when he hears them talk like friends. He sneaks a little closer to where their voices come from, hidden behind a corner until he is able to eavesdrop.

“Keep your hand still.”

“That was fun. And you’re sure I can do this?”

“Yes, you’re ready. But remember what I told you about this, will you?”

“Just in case. No playing around.”

“Good. That’s the last strap.”

Corvo frowns briefly when he tries to find out what exactly they’re talking about, but then he realizes that Daud always lends Emily his own wristbow when they practice, and that he apparently just took it back from her. He makes to straighten to approach them but stops when they keep talking.

“I like that you stay for sleepovers with Corvo so often as of lately. Corvo is always so happy the next morning when you stay with him during the night.”

Corvo tenses up and feels a violent blush crawling over his face and neck, not entirely sure just how much of their relationship Emily picks up, young as she is, but much smarter than most children her age.

Daud hesitates for just a second before he answers. “I like it too.”

“Why are you naked when you cuddle?”

Corvo jerks so heavily he almost misses the subtle sound of a small object hitting the floor, probably Daud dropping a pencil with about the same shocked expression on his face as Corvo.

It’s not that Corvo isn’t good at hiding that kind of… adult activity from his daughter, always making sure she doesn’t hear or see a thing besides the more innocent little signs of affection like kisses and hugs. Still, Emily sometimes comes into his room in the morning to wake him, and on more than one occasion Daud had been with him, tangled sleepily in his arms when Emily had pounced on them to wish them a good morning. They had both carefully remained under the blanket until she had left again, but what little of their shoulders and chests she had seen must have been enough to assume they were naked.

Biting his lip and silently praying to whatever bored entity might care to listen, Corvo hopes that Daud manages to solve this in a smooth way.

“Corvo is so warm that cuddling with him feels much nicer when we don’t wear clothing,” he says eventually.

Emily giggles knowingly. “Yeah, he’s always so warm, isn’t he? Corvo is an oven.”

Corvo exhales, relieved, and he can almost feel Daud radiate the same from the other room. He finally decides to come in and smirks at the way Emily rushes towards him to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Lord Protector.”

Daud makes a mocking little bow, winking at him playfully when Corvo returns the gesture, one hand pressed to his back and the other to his chest. Daud glances to his balcony and, seeing that his men are yet to appear, quickly strides over to Corvo to kiss him. Corvo complies only too happily, taking Daud’s face in his hands when he kisses him back and ignoring Emily’s quiet snickering from the side. The sounds of several Transversals can be heard outside, and Corvo he watches as Daud opens the doors to his balcony, beckoning in a group of Whalers that just arrived for reporting to their master.

Corvo ushers Emily away from the desk, and she doesn’t protest. Grabbing her beloved spyglass Daud had given her, she positions herself on the balcony and watches the city spread out below the Tower. Corvo decides against letting Emily wait outside since he knows that she’s usually so taken up by her activity _to learn about her subjects’ everyday lives_ , as she calls it, that she won’t pay much attention to what Daud discusses with Corvo and his men.

The Whalers greet Emily politely when they move past her into Daud’s office, all of them executing the salute they usually offer Daud. Emily greets them back, actually able to call Montgomery and Kieron by name despite the masks they wear. The men and women enter the office and position themselves next to Corvo. He believes he picks up on some subtle movements of the filters of their industrial masks flicking back and forth between Daud and him, but it might be his imagination. He knows that Daud’s men know about their bond by now, because after all they tend to behave like one big, misfit family and Corvo is sure word had spread quickly. He doesn’t mind, and neither does Daud, it seems.

“Report,” Daud orders gruffly and the Whalers speak in turn about the movement patterns of the witches. Daud makes notes on one of his boards while they report and Corvo listens carefully as well. Apparently, the witches organize their patrols in infuriatingly random patterns, but they tend to either focus their forces on the Tower or the Pyne mansion with several carefully placed sentries, but not both places at once. If Daud’s men hadn’t known that the Pyne mansion was to be the place to look at, they would have spent ages upending every last corner of Dunwall, Corvo realizes. The witches are incredibly good at hiding, and from what Daud told him he’s very aware of the threat they pose even without magic.

“So from what I get, we need to wait until they switch their forces to the Tower and then it’s green lights for us to go to Pyne mansion,” Thomas summarizes. Daud nods his assent.

“It’s critical that they don’t see us leave, though. Otherwise they’ll know we are around, place their sentries back around the mansion and we’ll have the entire coven on our asses as soon as we arrive,” Daud points out, staring at his notes. Corvo had noticed that his soulmate has a habit of pressing the end of his pencil against his lips when he does so, lost in thought, and he can’t help watching Daud with an endearing flush in his gaze despite the urgency of the situation.

There is some more strategic discussion taking place, and Corvo contributes to it as well as he can, always able to make himself heard as soon as he lifts his hands because he knows Daud immediately silences everyone else so Corvo can sign. It goes back and forth a little, until suddenly Emily’s bright voice drifts over from the balcony.

She’s been talking to herself most of the time, reporting on what she observes with the spyglass Daud had given her, but the last thing she said manages to make everyone in the office fall silent all of a sudden.

“There is a strange lady watching the Tower from a rooftop. She’s got thorny flowers in her hair and clothing.”

Daud stops dead in his speech and slowly turns his head, his piercing steel gray eyes blazing. Corvo can see him tense up, every muscle in his body on edge, but when his men make to move he brusquely lifts a hand.

“ _Nobody_ moves, is that clear?” he hisses through clenched teeth, his gesture backing up his urgent tone. Corvo blinks, confused, and the Whalers seem to share the sentiment, but they freeze without any backtalk.

Daud visibly struggles to keep up a more or less relaxed pose, and his voice is urgent but pronouncedly quiet when he continues.

“I guarantee you that witch had been watching us as well. If you go for your swords now like a bunch of headless chickens she’ll know that we saw her and alarm her sisters immediately. So don’t you fucking move, understood? Act naturally, like you don’t know she is there. For fuck’s sake, Devon, don’t look in her direction!” Daud growls, and finally his men understand, obeying his order to the letter, frozen to the spot with their heads stubbornly turned away from the window. Daud, now looking slightly more at ease but still with a determined glint in his eyes, cranes his head and addresses Emily on the balcony.

“Emily?”

“Yes, Daud?”

“Can you still see the lady with the flowers?”

“Yes. She’s sitting there, watching this side of the Tower.”

“Good. Please keep watching her for me, will you? But don’t look directly at her. Tell me should she leave.”

Emily glances back over her shoulder, her dark eyes wide and glittering with that worrying excitement Corvo only knows too well.

“Can I be a spy?”

“What? Yes, sure. Be a spy. Watch her, but inconspicuously so, alright?” Daud growls, satisfied when Emily lets out an excited squeal and focuses on her spyglass again with all the concentration she can muster.

Daud turns back to his men, and Corvo recognizes the look on his face. Daud’s mind is racing, Corvo knows, and he’s about to put together a plan for them. What Daud says next manages to surprise Corvo, though.

“Anthony, with me. The others stay here, and by the Outsider don’t let the witch see that we know about her presence. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Corvo watches Daud retreat with Anthony in tow. What is he up to? It’s obvious that Daud has some kind of plan in mind but so far Corvo has failed to get a grasp of it. The Whalers, apparently sharing Corvo’s confusion, approach the desk and try to act natural, some of them staring at Daud’s notes or picking up books, and Corvo can sense a shared wish of Daud coming back as soon as possible to tell them what in the Void he’s planning.

When Daud returns with Anthony, Corvo understands.

He doesn’t like it, though. Not in the least.

Anthony is wearing Daud’s bright red Spymaster coat, and Daud has changed into Anthony’s dark blue leather uniform that all of his men wear. He’s even holding Anthony’s mask under his arm, and his sword is laced on his belt. Anthony has about the same height and build as Daud, and his short hair is brown. From a distance, a person that doesn’t know both of their faces too well could easily take Anthony for Daud in this disguise, especially if they don’t have a spyglass or something.

Daud seemed to have thought the same thing, because he quietly addresses Emily again.

“Is the witch still there?”

“Yep.”

“Does she have a spyglass?”

“No. But she’s looking at your room. I’ll try watching the house below her so she doesn’t notice.”

The hint of a proud, fond smile tugs at Daud’s lips, but it vanishes behind the determined, harsh steel.

“We leave. Now. The witches are stationed around the Tower, we can assume, and the Pyne manor will be watched by only a fraction of their forces. Anthony stays here, acting like me, so the witch assumes I’m still here. Just do whatever comes to your mind, Anthony. Read, write, I don’t care. Just make sure it looks like I’m working and not going to leave any time soon. The sentry won’t suspect any harm coming for them as long as I am here. How fast can you have your groups ready?”

His last question is directed towards Pickford and Devon. The two Whalers exchange a quick look.

“Immediately, Sir,” Pickford answers.

Daud nods. “Good. We meet on the roof of the western wing of the Tower and then we’re on our way. We’ll approach the manor from the backside. Leave my quarters through the door, not the balcony.”

With that, Daud’s men nod their assent, and Daud approaches Anthony. Daud bows before him, his fist pressed to his chest in salute like his men usually do towards their leader, but now Daud does it to his makeshift doppelganger to keep the disguise up. His Whalers seem to hesitate for a moment, but Corvo has to grant them that they manage to play along very quickly. Despite the tension hovering in the air, he feels himself smirk at the way the Whalers bow before Anthony wearing Daud’s coat, and Anthony’s carelessly waved dismissal before he turns around to stare at the board in a brooding way looks so convincingly like Daud himself that it’s almost comical.

Corvo ushers Emily from the balcony, careful to not look into the direction of the witch sentry to make sure she doesn’t catch wind of the fact that he is fully aware of her presence.

“Did I do a good job as spy?” Emily wants to know, and Corvo nods enthusiastically. He really needs to fill her in on the whole witch matter as soon as possible, but not before he and Daud know what exactly they have to expect. He offers Anthony a handshake to keep up the illusion of Daud being in the office, because if the witches had been watching the Tower, they might know that Corvo would never leave Daud’s office without at least saying goodbye. Despite him being prepared for the contact, Corvo still startles when Anthony pulls him in for a firm hug.

“Sorry,” Anthony mutters somewhere next to Corvo’s ear. “It needs to look convincing. A handshake? She’s not going to fall for _that_.”

Pulling back, Corvo blinks rapidly few times but then he grins despite himself.

“Don’t expect me to kiss you, though.”

Corvo chuckles, oddly touched by the man’s empathy for the situation and once again reminded of how loyal the Whalers are to their leader. He leaves the office, Emily by his side. In the corridor, Corvo feels a surge of relief to see Daud again, looking strangely unfamiliar in the dark blue leather uniform. Apparently, he’s giving his men some last instructions and orders, checking if they are ready for their leave.

Corvo knows that they have to go now. That Emily discovered the witch was such a lucky coincidence that it’s very much unlikely that they’ll get another chance to strike at the coven while the witches are unprepared. Leaving Anthony in Daud’s clothing behind was a great idea, Corvo has to admit, but since he’s not sure how closely the witches are watching the Tower, or for how long, for that matter, nobody can tell how long the distraction will last.

It’s hard to acknowledge, but Corvo is afraid for Daud. It’s not because he’s been injured only recently, Corvo knows Daud is very well used to fighting and operating under worse circumstances, it’s…

There’s more, and it’s unsettling Corvo to the core.

He approaches Daud once more with two almost desperate, long steps, suddenly no longer able to fight the urge to simply stand there and watch Daud preparing himself to leave. When Daud notices his soulmate he stops in his speech, returning Corvo’s gaze. Corvo is not sure what he wants to do, or to say, and he’s aware of the Whalers surrounding them, watching him as he stops dead in front of Daud, unable to find words.

Daud stares back at Corvo, and it’s as if he can sense what his soulmate his feeling, like he so often did before. Daud takes a deep breath and opens his mouth as if to say something, but then he breaks off again. His gaze turns almost desperate, and he starts forward a little.

“Corvo, I…”

A surge of nameless hope flares up inside Corvo, burning right through him at the intensity of Daud’s eyes, and he waits for Daud to continue.

Daud doesn’t.

With a pained look in his eyes, he simply steps forward and gently places his gloved hands on Corvo’s cheeks, and then he leans in. Daud’s lips find his, soft and warm, and Corvo closes his eyes and returns the kiss, putting everything he can’t voice into the touch.

Their kiss lasts long, too long to be a chaste farewell kiss. When they finally part, the gentle, tender shine in Daud’s eyes is replaced by cold steel again, and he turns to his men.

“We leave. Now.”

If the Whalers have any thoughts on seeing their Master kiss his soulmate, they don’t let it show. Daud turns back one more time, and Corvo lifts his hands to sign.

_Take care._

“I will. I promise.”

Corvo nods, a heavy lump in his throat as he thinks back on Daud’s earlier promise, that he’ll never leave him, back to the mental image of the scars on Daud’s wrist. He watches as his soulmate disappears into nothing, and feels a small, warm hand slip between his fingers. Emily stands next to him, looking up at him with that too-thoughtful look in her eyes, and Corvo smiles down at his daughter and gives her small hand a thankful squeeze.


	19. Chapter 19

**XIX.**

Thomas follows Daud’s long-ranged transversals as their master weaves his way between chimneys and gables like smoke drifting with the wind. Thomas can tell by the soft sounds of warping air behind him that he’s being closely followed by Misha and Rulfio. A short glance around reveals Pickford’s and Devon’s groups, trailing behind with a little distance between them so they are harder to spot. It’s unfamiliar to see Daud in anything else but blood red, but Thomas had been around him for so long now that he could pick him out from any crowd only by the line of his shoulders and his posture, his movements powerful and silent despite his age.

Being out on a mission with their master himself is something that’s become a rare occasion since Daud had been appointed as Spymaster, and Thomas as second in command takes the role of the leader during most of his missions. Actually being out for a target with Daud again feels strangely like old times, Thomas has to admit to himself, and it brings back bad memories as well as nostalgic ones despite Thomas’ genuine agreement with the way the purpose of the Whalers changed.

They move quickly and efficiently between the rooftops of the Estate District, moving closer to the Pyne mansion while checking their surroundings constantly with their Void Gaze. Daud’s group takes the lead and Pickford and Devon follow fanned out behind, covering their flanks in a ground-in pattern, watching every angle around them. The sun is hidden behind a dark cover of steel-gray clouds, which is most welcome in their situation as it makes hiding so much easier.

Daud stops behind a row of chimneys just across the backside of Pyne mansion, and a short nod of his head signals Pickford and Devon to take position with their groups on two other rooftops a little further away. Daud seeks out Thomas with his eyes, asking for his opinion. Thomas briefly scans the rooftops Daud had picked for their backup groups to wait on. They are both strategically convenient, high and filled with the usual mess of decorative gables and chimneys, offering cover to hide behind as well as a good vantage point to watch the mansion. Thomas nods to Daud and checks if Pickford’s and Devon’s groups have taken position before he joins Daud, Misha and Rulfio behind their hideout.

“Remember, we’re only there to gather as much information as we can, which means we’re going to stay as long as possible. Still, it’s absolutely crucial that we don’t get seen, is that clear?” Daud asks quietly.

Misha and Rulfio nod their assent. Missions during which they linger in a target’s house had been a rare thing back then when most of the Whalers’ jobs consisted of infiltrating a place, killing their target and disappearing again. Still, their new job as spies had prepared them for the exact thing Daud needs them for, and Thomas is certain Daud’s forces will do well.

About Daud, Thomas is not so sure.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust into his master’s abilities. He’d follow Daud to the edge of the Void and back again without even giving it a second thought, and he knows Daud had recovered from his breakdown so well that he’s almost back in his usual shape, and Thomas had seen him going on missions in a much worse state.

Still, he can sense that there is something else weighing heavily on Daud’s mind, and if Thomas judges correctly he knows it must be because of Attano. Thomas had been the first to learn about the bond their master shares with the Lord Protector, but he’d always assumed they would never manage to bridge the gaping chasm between them to actually embrace the bond. They did though, eventually, and Thomas is not entirely sure how it affects Daud. Whether and how it changes him. Thomas had noticed an increasing absence of Daud, times in which the windows leading into Daud’s office were thoroughly locked, and Thomas as well as the others had carefully avoided using their Void Gaze to peer through the walls of Daud’s bedroom whenever that had been the case. Thomas is quite sure of the turn Attano’s and Daud’s relationship has taken. Their kiss before they left had only proven that, and by now Thomas knows it does something to Daud that has never been there before.

Daud is determined. Devoted. There is a kind of fire burning behind his usually cold eyes, a fire that had died down to ashes after the late Empress’ death, and that is now being rekindled, blazing with a force Thomas has never seen before. It’s not a fire fed by anger, though, like earlier, in their most profitable years. Now, it’s being fed by something else.

Maybe the change is for the better.

Thomas starts out of his brooding when Daud puts on the whaler mask he had borrowed from Anthony and nods towards the mansion.

 “You and Misha take the open window on the left of that balcony. Rulfio and I take the hatch. We meet inside. Go,” Daud growls, voice muffled by the respirator, and then the mark on his left hand glows blue and golden. He darts forward, and Thomas exchanges a quick hug with Misha before they leave as well.

* * *

Daud had suspected Lord Pyne to have a connection with the Brigmore witches, but what he finds inside the manor is nothing he’d been prepared for.

Every inch of the extensive building that used to bear the usual signs of Dunwall nobility – imported carpets, large chandeliers, expensive tapestries covering the walls, trophies and mounted weapons above fireplaces – is now either ruined by an ankle-high puddle of water covering the floor or overgrown by a strange, dark-green kind of moss. Lichen hang from the chandelier that Daud has perched on, and what little of the whale oil lamps formerly illuminating the corridors remains are either broken or covered by thick, dark curtains. The building is murky and the dirty water on the floor causes a strange, greenish light to be reflected from the surface, casting nervously flickering shadows over the moldy wallpapers.

It’s so much worse than he had imagined. It’s almost as if the witches bring rot and ruin wherever they set foot. The Pyne mansion looks like an absurd copy of Brigmore manor, and for a moment Daud asks himself if the Pynes are even alive still, because there are no clues of servants or housemaids to be seen despite his men having reported that the Pynes used to have a large flock of personnel tending to their needs. The utter _emptiness_ in the mansion is more than worrying, and Daud’s instincts set warning bells ringing in his head.

The skulls of some gravehounds are lying on the sodden floor, and Daud starts, frowning. He squints down at them, his left hand with the wristbow twitching with tension. He wagers whether shooting the skulls of the hounds is worth risking the noise of the shattering bone attracting enemies, or whether it’s smarter to just avoid getting close to the beasts. Behind him he can tell from the lack of the sound of warping air that his men have stopped too, watching him to wait for his decision.

Daud suddenly remembers that the hounds in Brigmore manor used to have an arcane glow around them, speaking of the magic that fuels their rotten carcasses with life. The skulls on the ground are cold and dead, and Daud concludes that due to the lack of magic the witches have just placed them there to scare off any intruders, or maybe because they like to keep up the illusion of old times, times in which they still had Delilah, and actual powers.

Daud nods to Misha, Thomas and Rulfio and signals them to follow. He transverses through the corridor, stopping on the top of a high shelf. He takes a moment to scan his surroundings with his Void Gaze, and frowns to himself when he notices a yellow silhouette approaching his hiding place from a nearby room. He lifts a hand and his men immediately stop following him, perching on a pipe under the ceiling. Daud’s eyes track the movements of a witch who carries something in her arms, her sloshing footsteps in the ankle-high water the only sounds to be heard, echoing eerily in the otherwise empty corridor.

Daud squints, not liking the way the mask impedes his vision, but deciding to keep it on in case they get spotted, which he’s determined to avoid at any cost. He tries to see what the witch is carrying, and when she turns to walk around a corner he is sure it is some kind of glass beaker, filled with a lightly glowing, orange substance.

 _There_.

Daud makes a gesture with two fingers and points, and Thomas repeats it from where he’s hiding in the shadows. They follow the witch with carefully places transversals. Daud knows the mansion is large and while he usually prefers to start at the top and work his way down, they don’t know where and how the witches have distributed the leftovers of their coven in the building, and following that one is as good an approach as any.

The witch walks through a murky, worn-down corridor, and Daud, while slowly prowling along behind her, notices a series of oil paintings mounted along one wall, showing the succession of Lord Pyne’s predecessors. It’s an old family, Daud knows, long established in Dunwall nobility, but suffering from a sudden economical crisis paired with a few political blunders, which had caused them to lose a large portion of their former wealth and reputation. It’s part of the reason why Lord Pyne always hated the Kaldwins with a burning passion, blaming them for the demise of his house.

Daud is not surprised when he notices the empty spot where Lady Pyne’s portrait used to hang on the wall, between Lord Gilderoy Pyne and his son and heir Hendric.

Since the death of Lady Pyne more than twenty years ago, the fortune of Lord Pyne had only grown for reasons that the Lord himself had carefully hidden.

When Daud had searched the noble’s archive for any clues regarding the connection to the Lord Regent, he’d found more than enough hints to suspect that Lady Pyne’s sudden death in childbed had been probably not as much a tragic accident as Lord Pyne claimed it to be, just as much as the entire fortune of his late wife falling into his own hands, and the hands of his heir. Daud had tried his best to unearth any kind of actual proof for this, but unfortunately Pyne had been careful to craft himself an excuse, for once. Lady Pyne’s health had been so fragile that it’s been no surprise she hadn’t survived the birth of her son, and even though Daud is damn sure Pyne had helped things along a little with poison to ensure his late wife’s riches fall into his hands as soon as possible, he can’t prove it.

Back then, Daud hadn’t really cared about Pyne’s obvious zeal for bringing his house back to power besides his ground-in disgust at the Pyne family deepening, because the connection to the Lord Regent had been more than enough to offer Daud more pull. Maybe that had been a mistake, looking at what has become of Pyne mansion now.

The witch with the orange beaker enters a large hall through a double door and closes it behind her, the echo of the heavy oak wood slamming shut vibrating throughout the corridor. There is no way of following her through that door, and Daud curses inwardly and turns around to look after his men. Misha and Thomas had stopped in their movement, their masks turning as they scan the corridor for another entrance into the hall besides the door.

A soft whistle from the left has Daud look around for Rulfio. The man squats on a pipe, wedged between the small space between the copper pipe and the dripping ceiling. He points to where the pipes run along, and Daud notices a small gap in the wall between the corridor and the hall to allow the pipes to pass through. One of the pipes has a crack, making the gap slightly larger.

It’ll be a close fit, but it’s all they’ve got as far as Daud can see.

He transverses over to Rulfio, carefully making sure in mid air to end up just next to him as softly as possible without making the copper ring too much from the impact of his landing.

“You first,” he whispers, his voice muffled by the respirator. Rulfio nods and sneaks along the pipe, squeezing himself through the gap into the hall behind as slowly and quietly as possible. Daud follows, biting his tongue to suppress a curse when he knocks his head on the top of the gap. He’s a lot bulkier than the slim, shorter Rulfio who waits for him on the other side, making sure he doesn’t get spotted. Daud nods to him and they transverse away to a dark niche between a cold fireplace and a shelf, and Daud watches Thomas and Misha crawling in as well, taking position on the other side of the hall.

Only when Daud has made sure his men are safely hidden, he turns his gaze down into the hall, taking in the startling scenario that unfolds in front of his eyes.

The hall still bears signs of its former splendor, drowned out by the green rot covering every inch of the luxuriance that Pyne manor used to be. The hall seems to be the heart of the decay the witches spread, drenched in dirty water. The fireplace Daud and Rulfio hide behind is cold, the chandeliers overgrown with gray lichen and a thick network of moss and roots covers every inch of furniture, making it look like the place had grown instead of been built. The windows are covered with thick black curtains, and the only light comes from a mass of candles placed on every available surface that isn’t dripping with water.

In the center of the ruined carpet are a number of flower pots, filled with the aggressive vines. They are large as grown men and jerk like dying snakes as if they are waiting for prey to come close enough to grab it. Close to the flower pots, the leftovers of the Brigmore coven have gathered, watching Lord Pyne and his son talking to one of the witches.

“It is almost ready, dear Lord. We just need to make sure once more that everything will work as planned.”

Daud assumes that the witch speaking is Breanna Ashworth. He’s never seen her in person, but the way her sisters’ eyes are following her every movement is enough for him to assume that she is their leader. Lord Pyne seems uncertain, arms crossed in front of his chest, and his son eyes their surroundings with an expression somewhere between fascination and disgust.

“Has it actually been necessary to… You know. I mean… I could have provided you with dead pigs or even whalemeat if you had just asked,” Lord Pyne says with a shudder in his voice.

“Providing the Pandyssian vines with a proper fertilizer is absolutely crucial to make them as efficient as they are, my dear Lord. I told you so. And inferior animal meat would have turned the vines into docile little dandelions, which is the opposite of what we want them to be, don’t you agree?” Breanna answers gently. “You said you wanted your house to be great again, didn’t you?”

Lord Pyne’s eyes graze over a pile of canvas sacks placed by the door, and he visibly shivers.

“Yes… Yes. Anything necessary.”

Breanna looks pleased, and Daud doesn’t miss the little nod she offers her sisters, causing the other witches to switch their tense stances to something much more relaxed. Daud frowns and turns his head towards the pile of canvas sacks that Lord Pyne had stared at before, and Daud suddenly notices the dark red puddle spreading out from under the sacks.

He squints, looking closer, and when he realizes just what the sacks are filled with, his stomach performs a sickening lurch. Daud pokes Rulfio’s shoulder and discreetly points to the sacks, and telling by the shocked flinch that runs through Rulfio’s body he realized it too.

There is an arm sticking out from one of the sacks, a foot from another, bent in an impossible angle. A bloodied bonnet sits skewed on a severed head, blind eyes staring at the ceiling, embedded in a bloody mess of organs and flesh.

“I guess feeding the vines with human meat is what drives them so aggressive,” Rulfio mutters next to Daud, and Daud nods, still staring at the sacks with the chopped leftovers of housemaids and servants. This explains why the entire mansion had been so empty, and it makes Daud’s insides boil with rage.

He takes a deep breath through the respirator and forces himself to calm down, focusing on the group below as Breanna takes the beaker with the orange liquid from her sister. She produces what looks like a perfume bottle and fills it with the softly glowing liquid, then hands it over to Lord Pyne. He attaches it to his wrist and covers it with a thick layer of white ruffles so that the bottle is hidden.

“Try again. We need to make sure it looks natural,” Breanna orders.

Pyne nods and draws a gilded rapier from his belt with all the grace of a person who never actually had to use a weapon for any purpose other than posing with a sword for oil paintings. He approaches one of the vines in a decidedly disgusted manner, but somehow manages to ward off two whips of the plant as it lashes out for him. They have been training this, Daud realizes, and for long most probably. He and his men watch as Lord Pyne keeps the whipping vine at bay with his blade and then the man lifts his left hand with the hidden perfume bottle.

“Stay back, vile monster! I, Gilderoy Pyne, servant of the Empire, will kill you and your evil brethren!”

It _looks_ like he’s stabbing the vine, but since Daud knows there’s a perfume bottle with vine-killing orange chemicals strapped to his wrist, he doesn’t miss the subtle motion of Pyne’s left hand as he sprays the substance on the plant. It immediately starts trembling miserably like a branch in a storm and turns brown, the surface shriveling and crumbling. It twitches a few times and then lies slack on the floor, quickly turning into withered, black remains.

Daud lifts his eyebrows.

“Bravo, mylord, bravo!” Breanna exclaims with a careful applause. “Excellent. The usage of the perfume was not noticeable at all, just like we practiced. Just… Maybe you could make the speech before sound a little less… theatrical? Just a touch less drama.”

Pyne looks disappointed. “But how are the other court members supposed to know that I just saved them?”

“Just kill the plants. They’ll know, I promise.”

Pyne huffs, and steps back to make some space for his son who had been equipped with a perfume bottle of orange herbicide in the same matter, hidden in his sleeve like the Whalers carry their wristbows. Hendric Pyne repeats the exercise, and he also manages to make it look like he’s heroically fighting back the vines with his ridiculous sword while actually using the herbicide from the bottle in his sleeve. It’s incredibly efficient, Daud has to admit. He understands that the Pynes seem to plan to win back the favor of someone, the Kaldwins, probably, but he still doesn’t know when they will pull this through and why the damned witches help them. He waits, grinding his teeth with impatience. Thomas and Misha keep still on their perch across the room, and Daud exchanges a subtle look with his second in command. He has a vague suspicion in mind on what all of this might be about, and he doesn’t like it at all.

Finally, Lord Pyne hands back the empty perfume bottle to Breanna.

“So, just to make sure your Ladies are all briefed… During the next court session, you attack the court and the Empress with your plants. Hendric and I kill the plants with the elixir and save the Empress and everyone else from death,” he summarizes, confirming Daud’s suspicion.

Breanna nods. “Yes, dear Lord. And my sisters and I escape by a hair’s breadth, chased away by your bravery, and you and your son will be the heroes of the day.”

“Of the century.”

“Heroes of the century, yes.”

Up in the deep shadows under the ceiling, Daud wants to laugh hysterically and growl with fury at the same time and has to muster all of his self control to do neither of those. Instead, he furrows his brow as he picks up on Breanna’s subtle change of expression, the slight canting of her chin and the tension in her elegantly clasped hands. Also, the sisters lined up behind her radiate the same unease, their eyes never leaving their leader. They are nervous, Daud notices, but the Pynes seem oblivious to that.

“What about Attano? Why don’t we just kill him with the vines?” Hendric says almost idly.

Daud flinches so violently he almost drops from the pipe at the mention of Corvo’s name, a white-hot surge of panic filling his stomach like liquid fire. The mental image of warping air around him, time twisted by the Void, the tip of his blade covered in blood as it sticks out from the back of that damned noble, flashes in Daud’s mind, and it’s so incredibly hard to resist the temptation to kill him there and then. The fingers of Daud’s right hand skitter nervously over the hilt of his blade as he wills himself to stay calm and listen, because he _needs_ to know more, he can’t let his old habits get the better or him, and Rulfio next to him visibly turns his head at Pyne’s words. He looks at Daud, but Daud refuses to return the gaze, afraid that it will betray him. Instead he stares daggers at the cursed bastards down in the hall, fighting back the bloodlust.

Daud can’t remember a single moment in his life in which the fear for another person had managed to make him feel this way, and he’s stubbornly fighting back the only logical conclusion that forces itself into his heart.

He fails, thinking of Corvo, and his throat goes tight.

“No! Young Pyne, have you not listened? No casualties, is that clear? Not a single one, not even the Empress’ bodyguard! It’s absolutely crucial that nobody gets harmed, since it will overshadow your heroic act. What kind of savior lets innocents die?” Breanna hushes him urgently.

Her words should calm Daud down, technically, but they fail to do so, and he’s clenching his jaw so hard that it hurts. Something in the expressions of the witches sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Hendric Pyne looks disappointed, but he relents. “I understand. Kill the set up plants as soon as they emerge. Save everyone. But then the Empress will know that I’m better than that Serkonan mutt and make me Lord Protector instead, won’t she?”

“Of course she will. And then you can take your rightful place as Royal Protector, hero that you are, young Lord,” Breanna confirms gently as if she’s promising a spoiled child a fancy birthday present.

Up in his hideout, Daud furrows his brow, blinking rapidly. So that’s what the leftover Brigmore witches are up to, then: A big show, all fake and set up, using the plants and their herbicide to attack the assembled court and make the Pynes look like heroes to help them redeem their house, putting Pyne’s obnoxious son into the prestigious position of the Royal Protector that his father had always wanted for him. It all makes sense, knowing Pyne’s pathetic longing for power and influence, and it’s so utterly ridiculous Daud can barely grasp it. He can’t help a cold, humorless grin spread over his face, but it disappears quickly when he thinks of a courthouse full of snapping vines surrounding Emily and Corvo, threatening to hurt them.

Daud can see Misha and Thomas fidget, weapons ready, and Rulfio next to him is so tense he’s about to snap, his sword drawn halfway. Every muscle in Daud’s body agrees with his men, and he wants to just jump down and tear them all apart for having the audacity of even thinking about hurting his soulmate.

Daud could stop all of this to happen here and now. There are more witches than the men he had positioned outside, but they are void of their magical powers and he’s sure he and his Whalers could overpower them. Daud could incapacitate the witches and the Pynes, or kill them if necessary.

He could end it here and now, before anything bad happens.

Daud gives Thomas and Misha a subtle signal to rally around him, and they place a few discreet transversals along rotten wooden beams and pipes until they are crouching next to Daud and Rulfio. He has just drawn breath to quietly whisper his orders to them when Hendric Pyne speaks up again, causing Daud to freeze immediately.

“The court session is only two days away, but I’m afraid I have my new suit fitting appointment on the very same day. We’ll have to postpone the attack a day, or do it earlier,” Hendric Pyne drawls in a way that suggests he’s very much used to getting his will.

Breanna, about to turn back to her sisters with a satisfied smile on her face, stops dead and spins around, eyes blazing.

“No! No, impossible. It needs to happen then, and just then. The spore capsules of the Pandyssian vines are all set up. Lord Pyne, you did an excellent job enabling us to smuggle the spore elixir in the Tower so we could get the court hall ready, but the capsules are going to hatch the vines on that day, no matter what. If we linger too long, or start too early, it’s going to be a massacre,” Breanna says, barely suppressed anger in her suddenly sharp voice.

“But you have the pink arrows!” Hendric whines, a tone like a disappointed child.

“As an addition, yes, for the small plants. But the large vines need the spore capsules to hatch. They are all set up already, waiting.”

Up in his hideout, Daud can hear the sharp intake of breath from Misha despite the unease numbing his body. They have even larger plants, then?

“Hear me, my dear Lord. We have to time this right. There’s no turning back. The vines will be there, _everywhere_ , and if you and your son don’t show up in time when the afternoon sun hatches the vines, there will be piles of corpses on your name. It’s going to be chaos. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

Breanna stares Pyne down, and again, Daud gets the impression that the witches behind her share a quiet unease.

Pyne bows his head. “Understood.”

“But the orange elixir is empty!” Hendric pipes up once more.

“Catlyn will cook us new elixir to kill the plants, won’t you, my dearest?”

One of the witches nods. “It will be ready in time, I promise.”

“Good. Lord Pyne, why don’t you and Hendric go and get yourselves some refreshments? The future heroes of Dunwall surely need a rest after all of this exercise. My sisters and I need to feed the vines. Breed the spores.”

Again, Lord Pyne’s eyes dart nervously to the sacks stuffed with severed limbs and human organs, and he visibly swallows. He nods to Breanna and ushers his son out of the hall.

“Master! Now! If we want to stop them, now’s the time!” Thomas whispers urgently close to Daud’s face.

Daud’s mind races, and he can feel the gazes of his men boring into him, waiting for his permission to strike, to take down the witches and the Pynes and end their pathetic plans right here.

“No. You stay where you are, is that clear?”

Thomas, Misha and Rulfio freeze, and Daud knows behind their masks they all share the same look of utter confusion.

“But Master… We need to stop them!”

“Didn’t you listen?” Daud hisses as quietly as he can manage with his mind reeling. “They have stuffed the court hall with spore capsules that will hatch gigantic thorny vines no matter if they show up or not, and kill everyone within reach. If we kill them now it won’t help the situation a single bit! No, we need to go back to the Tower, tell Corvo of this and disable the trap before it can spring.”

“Sir… What if we steal some of that vine-killing orange stuff and use it ourselves?” Rulfio whispers.

“It’s empty, Breanna said. They are making fresh elixir before they leave” Thomas points out and Rulfio huffs in frustration.

“Fighting them would be possible, I know, but every damn moment we spend here arguing means wasting time, time we don’t fucking have,” Daud growls under his breath. “No, we need to get back to the Tower, inform Corvo and find those damned spores. Believe me, killing those Void-damned lunatics and the Pynes right here and now is all I want to do, but we can’t, is that clear? Killing problems before they turn out to be actual threats is what half of Dunwall expects me, expects _us_ to do. But we won’t. The trap is laid out and will spring, and only the Pynes can stop it.”

Daud takes a moment to gather his thoughts, glancing down to see if the witches have seen them. They haven’t, and he continues.

“We need the Pynes to be there on the day the trap springs, with their damn herbicide, otherwise the vines could tear down half the Tower. We’ll allow them to pull through with their fucking plan, but only to a point, revealing the Pynes as the traitors they are and let the justice clerks deal with them.”

The Whalers pause and mull Daud’s words over, and Daud shoots Thomas a pleading glance through his mask. He needs his second in command’s confirmation now, because holding himself back from going on a rage-fuelled killing spree that would cost them dearly is suddenly too hard to manage alone.

“I… Master Daud is right. Pyne and Breanna both said they won’t let any harm come to people. I’m not inclined to trust the witches but it would make sense with what they want to achieve. If we manage to remove the vines before they emerge and wait for the witches to arrive, now that we know when and how they will strike, we can turn their own trap against them. And that way we’ll allow the Pynes to commit political suicide,” Thomas says.

Misha and Rulfio nod, slowly, and Daud straightens as far as he can in the little space between ceiling and pipe.

“Good. Let’s collect some evidence before we leave, though. I don’t like wasting another minute but we might need it later. Rulfio, go and see if you can get a souvenir or two from the sacks of meat down there. If we can’t get the Pynes into Coldridge for treason, their little mass murder should do the trick.”

Rulfio nods and waits for Daud to give him a signal. Daud musters all his mental energy and stops time, his mark blazing. Rulfio transverses down into the hall, moving swiftly between the shadows of the vines as he prowls towards the sacks. He skitters forward and sticks his hands into the human remains, picking out some items Daud can’t see from where he’s crouching. He signals Misha and Thomas to go ahead to leave when Rulfio returns, a bloodied bonnet, an engraved lighter and a wedding ring in his hands. Daud nods approvingly and they cross wooden beams and dark corners back to where they came in, a grim silence settling over them.

Outside, the light and fresh air is almost too much for Daud to handle. He rips his mask from his face a draws in a deep breath, exhausted from his usage of magic and his mind reeling from the things he just learned, stomach churning from a completely new kind of fear etching a hole though his insides. He resists the temptation to punch something and focuses on the spot where he left Pickford and Devon with their groups. When they approach their leader, eager to know what happened, Daud only offers them a gruff order to follow and makes his way back to Dunwall Tower was fast as he can, all his thoughts focused on Emily and Corvo.

* * *

They arrive in Daud’s office, finding a bored Anthony drawing doodles on a wanted poster. Daud changes clothes with Anthony again and then immediately gathers his men around him. He quickly explains to them what they had found out about the conspiracy of the witches and Pyne. When he is almost done Corvo shows up, led in by Jenkins, and Daud has to report about their findings all over again, causing the knot of unease in his stomach to clench even more.

Corvo’s astonishment when he learns of the Pynes’ plan to risk so many lives by hosting a set-up assault only to make it look like he and his useless son are saving the day casts such a deep shadow over his beautiful features that Daud’s voice breaks for a moment.

_Why didn’t you stop them?_

Daud explains, and Corvo just nods, frustration warring with grudging understanding.

_So there is a trap waiting for us that only the Pynes can stop. Pyne is insane. His plan is ridiculous._

“I agree,” Daud growls. “But, does that surprise you?”

Corvo sighs, turning away, and shakes his head.

“Why don’t we tell the City Watch?” Jenkins suggests.

Corvo lets out a little growl and signs, and Daud nods and translates for him.

“Corvo said that’s not going to help, and I agree with him. As soon as the word witch is mentioned, we’ll have the place crawling with Overseers, and what exactly would they do? Set everybody in wild panic, arrest people left and right and probably make everything worse than it already is. Not even mentioning how much they’d hinder our own plans. No, I’d prefer Corvo picking a choice squad of his best men and stuff the court hall with guards he can trust and control. Can you do that?”

Corvo nods grimly. He jerks his head towards the door and Daud knows what he’s up to. Daud picks a few men and dismisses the others with the order to prepare themselves and the men left at the headquarter for the next court session, when the witches want to strike.

Daud, Corvo and a group of Whalers swarm out in the court hall, upending the entire place from top to bottom, looking for the capsules filled with the pink spore liquid that is supposed to hatch the vines during the next court session like organic time bombs. They look in every tiny corner, under the glass roof and up on the top, behind every window and every lose wall panel until all of them are grumbling about aching backs, frustration growing with every passing moment.

They find nothing.

“Fuck! The spore capsules must be here, somewhere. There is a court session in two days, in the afternoon, right Corvo?” Daud asks after a colorful tirade of choice curses.

Corvo nods. _Then why is there no trace of the trap they set up?_

Daud growls, raking a hand through his damp hair. “No fucking idea. Maybe the Brigmores lied to the Pynes. I don’t know. All I know is that the witches said they’d strike during the next court session, and that the Pynes should be there to play their little opera, and that nobody should be harmed. It’s just about making a show, not about killing anyone. They were adamant about that.”

Corvo nods, eyes dark as the night sky. So _you still want to let the trap spring?_

Daud shrugs aching shoulders. “We don’t really have a choice, do we? The Pynes have the only stuff that can kill those large vines they talked about. The ones we’ve seen so far seem to be little shoots compared to what they have in store, and I’m afraid our bolts and blades won’t be of much use against them. We still have time to prepare ourselves for the assault. Time and knowledge are giving us an advantage. We can strap every inch of you and your guards with weapons and I’ll make sure that every corner of the hall will be watched by my men and me. As soon as we see the hint of a suspicious movement, we’ll incapacitate them on the spot and unveil Pyne as the traitor he is.”

Corvo returns Daud’s gaze, and they both know they share the same thoughts, the same worry, the same fear, but also the same knowledge that this is all they can do. Corvo then leaves to instruct some of Curnow’s men that he is inclined to trust to have agents and guards ready for an upcoming assault, making sure that they can turn the witches’ trap against them. Daud dismisses his Whalers, a feeling of pressure making the tiny hairs at the back of his neck stand on edge, because everything about this feels just _wrong_.

Feeling worn out and tense despite the leaden tiredness turning every step into agony, Daud finally walks back to Corvo’s quarters. He finds them empty, and a quick scan of his surroundings reveals that Corvo is in Emily’s quarters next door.

Daud quietly enters the quiet, dark room and finds Corvo sitting in a chair by Emily’s bed, shoulders hunched. Emily is a tiny lump under the blanket, looking horribly small and fragile compared to the large bed. Daud’s heart makes a painful little lurch when he slowly comes closer on quiet feet, sitting on the edge of the bed close to Corvo.

His soulmate doesn’t look up when Daud sits down. Corvo stares at his sleeping daughter while his hand gently rubs protective little circles over Emily’s belly.

Daud watches him for a while with a nameless tension clamping down on his chest. He finally reaches out and gently runs his hand through Corvo’s hair, and Corvo exhales slowly. He leans into the touch, and his eyes flutter shut.

“Corvo… She’ll be fine. I promise.”

Corvo draws in a shuddering breath and opens his eyes. He briefly returns Daud’s stare, and his dark eyes are radiating such a deep, hurt affection that Daud’s throat feels too tight to speak. The need to pull Corvo’s face close and kiss the deep furrows between his elegant brows until they soften into bliss is so strong it almost hurts, but Daud doesn’t, clenching his fists by his sides. He watches Corvo’s face as his soulmate turns his gaze back to his sleeping daughter.

 _I love her so much_ , Corvo finally signs.

 _Love_ , crossing both hands over the middle of his chest, over his heart. Daud has to take a deep breath against a painfully clenched ribcage before he feels able to form words.

“I know.”

Corvo gently brushes a strand from Emily’s forehead before he signs again, and when he does his hands move trembling and hesitantly.

_Should anything happen to me, will you take care of her?_

Daud just stares, stricken, struggling for words.

“Corvo, nothing will happen to her, you hear me? We are in control of the situation. Should anyone so much as lay a finger on her they’ll have to get past me first. Past us. I’ll tear anyone to pieces that dares to come too close to her.”

Corvo shakes his head. _I mean in general. She is so young, and you are the only one I could trust with this. Should anything happen to me, in the years to come, will you take care of her?_

The look on Corvo’s face and the sorrow in his eyes are unbearable. Daud’s heart beats so fast that he can hear his own stuttering pulse at the implication in Corvo’s words, that he wishes to share his future with Daud. The years to come. Daud’s thoughts stray away to Billie without him being able to do anything about it, to the young, angry girl he picked up from the street, allowing himself to indulge in the thought to treat her as a daughter, as his own. Her betrayal has torn a deep scar in his heart that is still bleeding, sometimes, in moments like this.

_Just promise me. Please._

“I… Yes. Of course I would. Like she was my own.”

At that, Corvo’s eyes well up, and he looks away, his shoulders shivering. Daud presses his lips to a tight line and bends forward a little until his palm rests on Emily too, over Corvo’s. He leans down and places a soft kiss on Emily’s forehead. When Daud withdraws again Corvo meets his eyes and they share a long, chaste kiss, just reveling in the feeling of warm lips against their own.

“Corvo, I…” Daud mutters against Corvo’s lips.

Daud’s mind is overflowing with words, so many that they’re threatening to choke him. He wants to say so many things, things he’d never said to anyone else before, but it’s too much, too much to handle, and his voice breaks when he attempts to speak.

Corvo’s hand runs down Daud’s cheek as if he knows, and Daud forces himself to draw a shuddering breath.

“Corvo, I… I want you to promise me something too.”

Corvo opens his eyes, dark like the ocean. Daud feels like he’s drowning in them.

“Should you ever have to decide between protecting me or her, you have to decide for her, is that clear?”

Corvo looks so shocked as if he got shot, and then his brow furrows in pain. He shakes his head incredulously.

Daud draws another shaky breath. “I couldn’t live with the thought of Emily getting hurt because you went after me. She comes first, always. Please. It’s how it has to be, and you know it. Promise me. If you have to decide between us, at any point, decide for her. Promise me.”

Corvo squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head away. His dark hair hides his face and Daud can hear him exhale, but then he nods, firmly. His hands move, and he signs _I promise._

“Good. I swear we’ll do everything in our power to make sure nothing bad happens. We’ve done the best we can, prepared our men. It’s all we can do.”

Corvo nods again.

Daud leans into him, tired and worn out by the things he learned and the words he still fails to say out loud, and Corvo’s strong arms encircle him and pull him close as if he can read his mind. They sit on the edge of Emily’s bed and watch Corvo’s daughter sleep peacefully, both of them lost in shared exhaustion. At some point, Corvo nudges his nose against Daud’s chin and Daud turns his head to face him, and they kiss. Their kiss starts slow, innocent, and Daud’s hands dig into Corvo’s hair to massage his scalp, and Corvo moans softly against Daud’s lips. Corvo runs his hands up and down Daud’s back, and every one of his touches causes a little tension and anger to bleed from Daud, bit by bit. He’s been longing for this, for Corvo’s closeness, and soon Daud has turned far enough to press his chest flush against Corvo’s, nipping at his lip and gasping softly when Corvo bends down to press his mouth against Daud’s collarbone.

When Corvo’s hand slips between Daud’s thighs he hisses and an involuntary little chuckle escapes him.

“Not here, bodyguard. Let’s go to your room.”

Daud can feel Corvo’s tired grin against his neck and mirrors it, despite himself. They get up, Corvo glancing one last time at Emily’s sleeping form, and Daud takes his hand to lead him over to his own bed. It doesn’t take long until they are both undressing each other, taking their time with each button and lace. They are both tired and desperate for something that doesn’t require them to constantly be on edge, swordhands hovering tensely over the handles of their weapons. Their caresses are slow and gentle, and feeling Corvo’s heated skin pressing against his own when they are both naked feels like a remedy to Daud, a much needed relief, his growing lust driving the darkness from his mind.

Corvo presses Daud on his back and lies on top of him, hands in his hair and lips on his neck, and Daud groans and arches his hips up to grind his erection against Corvo’s, shockingly hot against his stomach. Corvo kisses Daud’s collarbone, his chest, teeth grazing over his nipples, working his way down to press delicate little kisses on the chiseled muscles of Daud’s stomach. Corvo seems to pick up on his soulmate’s weariness and gently massages his arms, moving to his wrists and kneading Daud’s fingers between his own. Corvo then lets his hands roam down Daud’s body to his thighs, rubbing the tension from his muscles and drawing a content growl from Daud’s lips. Daud closes his eyes as he feels the tension seeping from his body under Corvo’s strong, firm touch. Corvo pays particular attention to Daud’s ribs, running his warm palms over the spot that he knows Daud enjoys most, causing him to close his eyes with pleasure. He’s getting awfully close to Daud’s leaking erection, and when Corvo’s hands graze warmly over Daud’s lower abdomen he pauses, dark eyes wandering over his shaft. He hesitates only for a moment and reaches out to run his fingers over Daud’s arousal, drawing a deep groan from Daud. Daud had come to notice that Corvo’s former insecurity is dissolving the more often they share a bed. Corvo had become much more active, much to Daud’s delight, his eagerness to take changing into the willingness to give. Corvo explores, taking his time, caressing Daud’s arousal with tender curiosity, a proud smile flickering over his features whenever he makes Daud moan with pleasure.

Corvo bends down, suddenly, something hungry in his eyes. He stops short before reaching Daud’s arousal, though, biting his lip, a nervous gaze flicking to Daud’s face. Daud hurries to offer him a reassuring smile between two shaky breaths, reaching out to run his fingers through Corvo’s hair.

“Want to give it a try, Corvo? You don’t have to if you don’t like it,” he rasps gently, grinning when Corvo leans into his touch.

 _Maybe it won’t feel good for you,_ Corvo signs, something almost apologetic in his eyes. Daud realizes he’s thinking about his missing tongue, and the mere thought that Corvo considers himself lacking causes Daud to frown. Even the slightest touch from Corvo is enough to drive Daud to ecstasy, and he’d never consider his soulmate wanting in any way. He reaches up and takes Corvo’s face in his hands.

“You’ll drive me insane, I’m damn sure. Don’t worry about me. Just try what you’d like to try. I’m all yours.”

Daud pulls Corvo close to kiss him and feels him smile. Corvo withdraws and returns his attention to Daud’s erection again, looking more encouraged this time. He slowly bends down and presses a kiss against Daud’s navel, and another one a little further down. Daud doesn’t have particularly abundant body hair, but there is a trail of dark brown hair growing down from his navel to form a small patch around his arousal, and Corvo follows it with his lips. He nuzzles his nose into Daud’s hair, and Daud bites his lip helplessly when he feels him inhale, his erection jumping in response. Finally, Corvo takes Daud’s erection in his hand and kisses the tip, and the mere sight is so damn erotic that Daud lays his head back and groans. Encouraged by his reaction, Corvo continues pressing little kisses along Daud’s length while stroking him. Corvo gently nips on the soft skin with his teeth and then his lips cup the tip, and when he sucks Daud lets out an embarrassingly desperate moan. Corvo takes him in further, letting the tip of Daud’s erection graze against the soft inside of his cheek, and Daud feels like he could come right there and then from how wonderful it feels. He’s shivering with pleasure, fisting his hands in the sheets, and his cut-off breath earns him a proud smirk from Corvo.

 _Good_? Corvo signs with one hand, lifting an eyebrow.

“No, you damn bastard, it’s not. I’m getting reduced to a shivering wreck because I’m bored,” Daud comes back sarcastically, a tender smile taking any sting from his words. “Now stop before I lose it and get your pretty ass over here.”

Corvo presses another kiss against Daud’s leaking tip and prowls back up to him, settling in Daud’s open arms. Daud kisses him passionately and immediately moves one hand between Corvo’s thighs, pressing the tip of his middle finger against his entrance. Corvo’s breath comes shuddering out of him when Daud gently, slowly pushes in, and they grind together hungrily, bodies slick with sweat, while Daud works Corvo open. When he gets to three fingers Corvo’s brows are drawn together in a mixture of pleasure and frustration, his curvy lips slightly parted as he gasps for air, rocking back against Daud’s fingers inside him. It’s astonishingly beautiful, like a cure against Daud’s worn-out mind, a drug he never knew he was addicted to. Daud finds himself unable to wait a single moment longer and flips Corvo on his back. He hovers over him, positioning himself between Corvo’s eagerly opened thighs.

As much as Daud is longing to bury himself deeply in Corvo’s heat, pressing him into the mattress with hips and teeth and hands until they both forget how to think, his arms tremble with exhaustion and his back screams at him at the effort. Something must have shown on his face, because Corvo stops, something worried crossing his features, and he gently cups Daud’s cheek, searching his expression.

_If you’re not feeling like it we can stop. I want you to relax, not to overexert yourself._

Daud, as much as he wants to agree, shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s alright. I need this.”

Corvo smiles, the sight sending a shiver down Daud’s spine and making his face feel too warm.

_Me too. But you’re tired. Aren’t you?_

“I am,” Daud growls reluctantly. An idea flickers up in his mind, something they’ve never tried before. “How about you getting on top?”

Corvo looks decidedly shocked. _I’ve never done this. What if I hurt you?_

“No, I meant… Let me show you.”

Daud pushes himself away from Corvo and sits next to him, leaned back against some pillows supporting his back. He gestures to his hips.

“Come kneel on my lap,” he says gently, a deep rasp in his voice, and notices with a flare of pleasure heating up his chest how Corvo bites his lips at the sight of him. His soulmate hesitates only for a moment, then comes closer to gently slick Daud with oil and swings himself over Daud, sitting in his lap with Daud’s erection in front of him. There is something insecure left in his eyes, but it’s being drowned out by desire when Daud pulls him close for a kiss, and Corvo eagerly presses his chest against Daud’s.

“Take me in,” Daud rumbles into Corvo’s ear, and Corvo moans at the sound of his voice. He lifts his hips and allows Daud’s erection to slide up and down between his cheeks, moving back and forth a little, spreading the oil over his flesh.

Daud lays his head back and groans in frustration, a needy smirk on his face warring with a frown. “Stop being such a tease!”

Corvo grins and bites at his lip playfully, then angles his hips to take Daud in. He flinches a little when the tip slides into him, and Daud immediately presses a kiss against his neck, rubbing soothing circles over Corvo’s back and ribs.

“Shhh, take your time,” he murmurs, and feels Corvo’s lips pressing into his hair in response.

Corvo lowers himself down further, and he’s shockingly hot and tight and presses his hips down so eagerly that Daud all but cries out, clenching his teeth to avoid making too much noise and failing miserably to do so. Corvo catches his mouth with his own and chases the desperate groans Daud lets out, mirroring them when they are joined completely. Corvo shivers and Daud does too, his hands gripping onto Corvo’s sharp hipbones. Corvo finally rolls his hips experimentally, blinking self-consciously when his own erection bobs up and down a little, obviously feeling new to this position.

“Fuck, Corvo, do you have any idea how damn beautiful you are?” Daud whispers into Corvo’s messed-up hair, and Corvo chuckles softly. Encouraged, he rolls his hips again, more eager this time, and Daud groans helplessly, his finger digging into Corvo’s flesh. Corvo kisses Daud’s forehead and clutches to his shoulders with tense arms, rocking down on Daud’s arousal. Daud moves in time with him, hips jackknifing off the bed to meet his, desperate to keep that perfect rhythm up, desperate for more, for all of Corvo. Daud buries his face in the curve of Corvo’s neck, allowing himself to drown in his scent and the sound of his moans, losing his anger in him and feeling his worries bleed away, in every drop of sweat slicking their bodies, every red mark left by teeth on their skin. He vaguely remembers Corvo’s own erection, trapped between their flush stomachs, and reaches between them to wrap strong fingers around Corvo. Corvo moans helplessly in response, speeding up his rhythm until he drives Daud over the edge, and Daud claws his way into Corvo’s hair and down his sweating back when he comes, emptying into his soulmate. A mere moment later Corvo comes too, pulsing in Daud’s trembling touch as he fills the small space between them with hot wetness.

An indefinite amount of time passes in which all Daud does is breathe, his racing heartbeat pounding in his head, blissfully aware of Corvo’s massive, boneless weight on his lap. He vaguely registers being pushed back until he lies down, and a blanket covers him. Corvo is there, wrapping Daud in strong arms, ragged gasps ghosting through his hair when he presses close. Daud blinks a few times, finding his way back into reality, and finds himself too tired and relaxed to do anything but hold Corvo in a shaky embrace, pressing kisses to his heated lips.

There is still a threat hovering over them that sets alarm bells ringing in Daud’s mind because all of what they’ve learned feels utterly wrong, but right now nothing matters, nothing besides the knowledge that Emily is safe and sound in the room next door, and his soulmate is lying in his arms, smelling of their shared closeness.

Nothing else matters anymore, Daud suddenly realizes, and the knowledge threatens to crush him.

“Corvo, I…” he says before he can stop himself.

Corvo opens drowsy eyes, inches away from his face, and the gentle, whiskey-brown gaze meeting Daud’s is too much to handle, causing him to choke on his words.

 _Say it_ , Daud’s mind screams at him, _say it now. He needs to know_.

_Say the words._

He can’t.

Defeated, drowned by a wave of emotions, Daud just leans forward and kisses Corvo, putting everything he can’t voice into the kiss, and feels Corvo respond in kind, losing himself in the warm, firm embrace. He falls asleep with Corvo’s heart beating against his own and the realization that this is the sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting awfully close to the finale, don't we? The next chapter might actually be it, but I promise that if it should it'll be a very long one.


	20. Chapter 20

**XX.**

By the day the court session takes place, they have prepared not only for the assault the Pynes and the witches have set up, but also for every single eventuality they could think of, and it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough to Daud.

He lets his gaze wander over his men as they exchange advice on how to deal with the vines and witches with the guards Corvo contributed to the small army set up inconspicuously in and around the court hall. Daud had picked only the best men and women he has, the ones that accompanied him to Brigmore, the ones that stayed loyal to him even when he left for a while. Thomas does another checkup of the circular court hall, making sure there have been no changes to furniture and wall panels during the last two days. Daud knows very well that that’s pretty much impossible since there have been always at least three of his men watching the hall in every moment to make sure nobody enters without them knowing, but Thomas knows what’s at stake here, and Daud is thankful he checks anyway. Rulfio discusses their plan again with the group leaders, but Daud only listens with half an ear, tracing Corvo’s movements instead.

The court members, politicians, representatives and nobles, are yet to arrive, and Corvo takes the time to set up his most trusted guards in the circular hall with the domed glass roof. He is littered with weapons and carefully hidden bags of ammunition and his men are too. Daud notices that Corvo’s choice men understand him mostly by gestures and most of them move to their post, looking determined, without even having to read Corvo’s notepad. Corvo had made sure only to pick men he judges capable to handle the situation they prepared themselves for, and it manages to ease Daud’s tension a fraction.

Not entirely though, because his instincts keep making his spine prickle with unease.

“Corvo?” Daud says quietly when Corvo has positioned his last guard and makes to turn towards his soulmate. Corvo manages a tired half-smile when he sees Daud approaching, and Daud returns it, despite himself. If it wasn’t for his support and the soothing effect his closeness has on Daud, Daud is sure he would have snapped with agitation days ago.

“Everything ready?”

Corvo nods. _Nobody besides you, the Whalers and my guards know about this._

“People won’t wonder why the Spymaster is not present?” Daud asks. He is not going to attend the discussion, but take position with his men on the roof of the hall, watching the surroundings and the court session through the glass dome that spans the hall.

_You were not required to attend this session anyway._

“Oh, I didn’t know. Even better,” Daud returns. That is strange, but since his name hadn’t been on the list sent to all court members weeks in advance, nobody will get suspicious when he’s not among the other attendants, so that only works in Daud’s favor.

Corvo’s beautiful, stern eyes move through the hall once more.

_There hasn’t been this much steel in this room since Emperor Euhorn’s controversial bill and the threatening notes he’d been receiving._

“I know. No matter how many witches or vines they come up with, they have to get past at least four blades each until they get even close to Emily. Or anyone else, besides. And as soon as they do, we’ll be here to surprise them with a welcoming committee and reveal the Pynes as traitors.” Not even his own reasoning feels calming to Daud, and he leans a little closer to Corvo so that only he can hear him.

“I still have a bad feeling about this. Why did we not find any traces of the spore capsules they mentioned hiding? They were adamant the prepared trap would spring today, right here.”

Corvo shrugs. _Maybe they are hidden too well, or in a shape we don’t expect. Let’s wait for the Pynes. Whatever they come up with, we are ready for them._

Daud sighs, telling himself firmly to believe Corvo. “You’re right.”

He makes to turn away to gather his men so they can set up position on the roof. Before he does so, a hand on Daud’s shoulder stops him, and he turns his head back to Corvo, who watches him with eyes as dark as ebony.

_Take care_ , he signs. His hands hover, as if he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Daud’s lips, and Daud shivers when he feels the warm softness, chasing it when Corvo pulls back. Corvo shoots him a last, tender smile before he turns back to his position by Emily’s still empty seat, and Daud notices that Pickford had moved in the line of sight between Daud and the guards so that they don’t see them kissing.

Fighting back a blush, Daud gestures to his men and they transverse up through an open glass panel onto the roof. His lips still feel the warmth of Corvo’s mouth, and he can still smell him, his warm, familiar scent lingering in Daud’s senses. Every muscle in his body screams at him to run back to Corvo to wrap him in his arms and never let go again, whispering all his deepest secrets into his soulmate’s ear. Stubbornly, Daud blinks to focus and signals his men to spread their forces over the roof of the Tower wing the court hall is situated in. Almost all Whalers are being positioned strategically over the roof, hidden in corners and shadows and some of the senior Whalers close to Daud around the large, domed glass roof. All it takes to check the hall below them is to step forward and gaze down through the glass.

Daud watches with a dry mouth as Corvo straightens his back and bows deeply when the doors to the hall are opened and Empress Emily Kaldwin is escorted inside, followed by the swarm of court members. They take their seats, and even up high on the roof the general murmur of discussion floating up from the hall can be heard, muffled by the glass.

Daud tenses up when he sees the Pynes, Roderick and Hendric, taking their seats with decidedly unpleasant expressions on their faces. Daud frowns deeply when he notices the thick ruffles covering their sleeves. So they do have their orange vine-killing spray bottles ready, waiting for the fake assault to happen so they can act as saviors. Daud pokes Thomas in the ribs and gestures down through the roof.

“See? There they are.”

“The heroes of the century,” Thomas murmurs back sarcastically.

“My ass.”

Thomas snorts a short, humorless laugh, muffled by his respirator, and continues watching the court session starting below. Daud would give everything to be down there by Corvo’s and Emily’s side, but he’s needed here, to scan the area with his Void gaze for any suspicious movement. Still, there is a kind of fear eating a hole in his stomach that he’s rarely experienced in his life, and it makes his hands itch with agitation. He prowls back and forth restlessly, hidden by the shadow of a chimney, feeling a growing anger nagging at his strained nerves because he can’t be in every place at the same time, can’t be with Corvo, can’t control this fucking situation. Part of him wishes for the witches to finally appear. Let them throw their damn vines at him, Daud can take on the entire coven if he has to. He’d sworn to himself he’d never kill again, but he’s very much willing to make an exception should anyone so much as harm a hair on his soulmate or his daughter.

Daud snaps out of his dark brooding when he suddenly notices Pickford next to him. The young Whaler is looking at him in an almost scrutinizing way, at least judging by his posture. Daud attempts to relax the muscles of his jaw as he realizes how much they already hurt by clenching his teeth constantly, and slightly turns his head to the side, but otherwise remains still. Pickford leans closer.

“Master, don’t worry. I believe we can do this. Your soulmate will be safe,” Pickford whispers quietly.

His words, surely meant to comfort Daud, somehow are like pouring whale oil on a raging fire. Daud lowers his head and his hand creeps over the hilt of his blade, and it takes all his self control to keep his voice down.

“Back. To. Your. Post,” he growls through his teeth without looking at Pickford, eyes fixed stubbornly, desperately on the edge of the roof a few feet away.

Pickford nods and executes a quick bow. He still reaches out to give Daud’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, the movement so quick and unexpected that Daud doesn’t get the chance to react, and then he dissolves in shadows.

Daud stays behind, reeling with agitation, and keeps watching the surrounding rooftops, buildings and the court hall below them with all eyes he can muster. Waiting.

The court session goes on for what feels like a painful eternity, with Corvo being stern and on guard, his fingers dancing constantly over the hilt of his sword, exchanging looks with the carefully placed watchmen. Time goes by horribly slow, and the Pynes are suspiciously quiet, obviously waiting for their big moment. Daud feels like a bowstring, and the mark on his hand prickles and hums nervously.

Nothing happens.

The court session comes to a close, with some final words from Emily. There is appreciative applause and the court members are being escorted out of the hall.

“It’s almost over. The vines should hatch any moment,” Thomas whispers from his hideout close to Daud. Daud nods, glancing up at the murky sun. The witches said the warmth of the sunlight would hatch the vines, and that’s when the witches are going to attack as well, adding to the chaos so that the Pynes can play their little opera to act like heroes.

Daud waits, but nothing happens.

The voices down in the court hall get quieter, drifting away as the court members leave in small groups. Daud gives Misha a poke with his Tethering, and she quickly glances down through the glass roof before transversing back to Daud.

“The Pynes are still there. Master, I think they are confused. They linger behind and whisper to each other and throw glances left and right as if they’re expecting something to happen.”

“Are Corvo and Emily still there?”

“No, Master. They left about five minutes ago. Some secretaries and the Pynes are all that are left.”

Daud curses under his breath, glancing around the rooftops again. “Thanks, Misha. Back to your post. Watch the hall.”

Misha bows and does as she is asked. Thomas sneaks up next to Daud.

“Sir, this reeks of betrayal. Something is wrong. The Pynes seem to have expected the assault to happen, just like we did. But nothing happened! Do you think they will still strike?”

Daud shrugs. “Their moment is over. They needed a big audience to make it look like the Pynes saved everyone, but now the court members are all gone again. There is nobody left to witness. My first guess was that the witches saw us on the roof and decided that they’d prefer to do their thing without company. They might have cancelled their assault because of us. But I don’t really believe that, actually. We’re all pretty good at hiding and besides, the vines should have hatched with and without their presence. They were what the witches set up as centerpiece of their plan, weren’t they?”

“We never found the spore capsules.”

Daud nods, slowly. “We never found the setup vines they promised the Pynes. Maybe the Brigmore witches have not been the loyal allies the Pynes hoped for?”

Thomas cocks his head. “Sir, you think they betrayed the Pynes?”

“They didn’t show up as promised, did they? And Misha already said the Pynes have prepared themselves as discussed and now they look like their promised chance to play heroes didn’t happen as they expected.”

“Why would the coven do that? Go to lengths helping the Pynes by breeding the plants only to cancel their plan in the very nick of time?”

Daud frowns. “I have no idea. Why help the Pynes in the first place? Why would they want to see his stupid son as Royal Protector? They have no reason to hold a grudge against Corvo, like the Pynes do. That was what the witches promised them, but what do they gain from that?”

Thomas shrugs helplessly, and Daud growls, returning his gaze to the rooftops surrounding them. Everything about this just feels wrong, and his built-up tension doesn’t ease a single bit. He orders his men to remain where they are, just in case the Brigmore witches decide to show up after all.

They wait another half an hour until the very last person has left the court hall, and then Daud gathers his men.

“Looks like our friends from Brigmore decided otherwise, and lied to the Pynes about the trap they set up. I want you to take up your usual positions around the Tower, just in case. It may be over for good, but I still have a bad feeling about this. Thomas, where am I supposed to be next?”

Thomas briefly turns his gaze skywards as he recalls Daud’s schedule. “The Spymaster is supposed to meet with the Empress in the throne room to discuss political questions. In about half an hour.”

“Thank you. Thomas, come with me, the others take their posts. Never let your guard down, you hear me?”

The Whalers nod, and Daud can feel their exhaustion as well as their disappointment and confusion as the plan they prepared so carefully failed to come into play. He shares the sentiment, and when he transverses down into the court hall again his spine is prickling with unease.

* * *

 

Thomas follows Daud through the corridors, left hand clenched to renew his Void gaze whenever necessary. Daud strides forward with that grim determination Thomas knows so well, stopping only to shoot a glance into a small study room they pass.

“Wait a moment,” Daud says, and Thomas obeys, surprised. Daud moves into the room, and Thomas can hear him talk to a young voice. He realizes it must be Empress Emily, and as tempted as Thomas is to peek on them talking with his Void gaze, he knows it is not his place to do so. Instead he scans their surroundings with experienced eyes, checking all the hideouts and dark spots he would use if he was to infiltrate the palace. There is no suspicious movement whatsoever, and a part of him wants to believe that the danger is over, that everything had been a false alarm.

Daud returns and offers him a nod, apparently pleased with what he discussed with the Empress. He rubs his left wrist in an absentminded way, Thomas notices as they continue their walk.

“Sir, was that the Empress? Is she well?”

“She is. She’ll be in the throne room in a few moments. Corvo has already gone there for the meeting.”

Thomas nods slowly. Eventually, he dares to ask: “Sir, what did you discuss with the Empress?”

Daud doesn’t answer for a moment, gaze fixed stubbornly in the direction they are moving. Eventually, he stops in his stride, and turns a little to look Thomas in the eye.

What Thomas sees there makes him even more worried than he already is.

“Master?”

“Thomas… I am not sure whether this is over already, but I have a feeling that we missed something, an important detail.”

Daud pauses, as if taking time to choose his next words. “Something about this reeks of danger. Whatever happens, promise me you’ll have an eye on Emily, and Corvo. They always come before me, and you and the men do so as well. Is that clear?”

Thomas blinks, wondering why Daud puts so much emphasis on that order, as if he needs to make sure Thomas obeys. Thomas would follow Daud to the edge of the Void if he asked him to, and he’ll follow his leader’s orders to the letter, without question.

“Of course, Sir.”

Daud nods, clearly not entirely satisfied, and suddenly Thomas manages to see past his steely barrier, recognizing the emotion Daud is hiding behind the stern façade.

“Master… You’re afraid for your loved ones, aren’t you?”

Daud startles, something in his face slamming shut, and he visibly takes a breath as if preparing himself for a tirade of curses that Thomas will take without complaint, but the expected rebuke never happens. Instead, something exhausted crosses Daud’s features, something thankful and relenting, as if he’s giving way to a barred-up emotion inside him. He sighs deeply.

“Yes. I am. This might be over already, but should anything happen after all, make sure the men are prepared. And focus on my soulmate and daughter. They come before me. Always,” Daud says.

It doesn’t sound like an order. More like a heartfelt plea.

Thomas struggles for words, overwhelmed by the trust Daud puts in him. He just nods, and means it.

“Thanks,” Daud growls quietly. For a moment it looks like he’s going to march onward, but he hesitates, an uncertain expression on his face as if trying to make a decision. Eventually, Daud reaches out and pulls Thomas into a firm hug. Thomas flinches, but then returns the embrace, his ribcage feeling too tight to breathe.

When Daud releases him his usual stormy scowl snaps back into place and he turns brusquely to transverse towards his quarters, and Thomas joins him. He notices Daud fiddling with the sleeve of his left hand again, but he keeps his gaze stubbornly forward until they reach his rooms.

“I need to fetch my documents. Go to the throne room. Tell Corvo I will arrive shortly, and make sure some of our men are around.”

Thomas nods, his spine prickling from the question why Daud is still so on edge despite the apparent danger being over for now. The tension Daud radiates sparks over to Thomas, and he feels himself mirroring his leader’s behavior, determined to heed his plea and at the same time secretly scared that it will be necessary. Daud’s instinct of looming danger is incredibly precise most of the time, and Thomas hopes with all his heart that this time, Daud is wrong. He offers Daud a quick bow, but his master has already vanished behind the heavy wooden doors.

* * *

 

Daud paces in front of his bulletin board, covered in notes, the letters and images blurring together when he stares at them. He still has a few minutes before they expect him to be in the throne room, and he needs a moment for himself to collect his racing thoughts.

As much as Daud forces himself to focus on the damned witches and the Pynes and as much he curses them all to the Void, his mind is torn, his thoughts straying to Emily and Corvo the more he tries to focus on the danger he still suspects to exist. Whenever the image of Corvo bleeding from cuts the sharp thorns of vines left on him erupts in front of Daud’s inner eye, his insides burn with a nameless fear.

He thinks back on the moment they shared in Corvo’s bed a few nights ago, tangled in each other’s arms and sharing breath and heartbeat, and the mere memory causes Daud to have to suppress a bittersweet shudder. He’d almost said it, he realizes with something that is not quite pain lancing through his heart. Daud’s spectrum of feelings had been violently crippled during his lifetime and emotions like affection and compassion don’t come easily to him, distributed in small portions to only a few choice people. What Daud feels for Corvo, though, is something he hasn’t felt in so long that the attempt at acknowledging the existence of such emotions is almost suffocating.

Daud curses under his breath and lets himself sink against one of the marble pillars in his quarters. The stone feels cold and smooth against his cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the sensation until his heart has stopped stuttering and his breath comes evenly again.

It’s been so long. Too long.

Daud takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and then, with Corvo in mind, despite the pain clenching his ribcage, allows himself to indulge in the feelings for his soulmate that he now realizes must be love.

He loves Corvo, with all his heart, simple as that and still so complex that his pulse stumbles when he acknowledges the thought.

Daud closes his eyes again and bites back a curse through clenched teeth as he wills his hands to stop trembling, and, eventually, the thought settles itself inside his chest, warm and gentle like a hearthfire in the cold of winter. It resembles the moment when Corvo had forgiven Daud his past, leaving him shivering with disbelief at first and then stunned with incredulous thankfulness, but this is even more, burns even brighter.

Daud had failed to tell Corvo, and the imposing question why he hadn’t dared to do so and whether Corvo feels the same is something Daud can’t even start to think about without feeling like he’s being crushed by a massive weight collapsing over his head. Daud almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of his own mind, thinking about a love confession when they are all worrying about an assault of mad witches maybe or maybe not attacking the Tower with Pandyssian killerplants, but after all, Daud is beyond caring.

The important thing is not his own chaotic mess of feelings or his inability to deal with them, it’s making sure Corvo is alright, and Emily too. Everything else has to wait. Corvo might have forgiven Daud, and over time Daud has come to believe that Corvo had actually meant it. Still, Daud feels that there is still a debt between them he will never be able to compensate for. There is still a yearning for redemption in Daud, a burning wish to dedicate himself to his soulmate and his daughter. He will never truly find salvation, and doing his outmost to make up for his past by making sure his loved ones are safe is the least Daud can do.

Whatever it might take, Daud is willing to give it.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to focus his mind back on the imminent danger. Despite the apparent false alarm, something about this doesn’t sit right. Daud has a horrible feeling about this. They might have found out about the witches forming an alliance with the Pynes to host their little fake assault to make the nobles look like heroes and restore the reputation of their house and now the attack never happened, but still Daud can’t shake the feeling that this is not the whole story.

He stares at the notes and wracks his brain, trying to find the missing link. The Pynes’ plan actually makes sense with the way they think, Daud doesn’t question that. As zealous and completely arrogant as they are, going to such lengths as allowing the witches to murder their servants to feed the vines, only to put Hendric Pyne into the position of Lord Protector like he’s been wanting for years now might be completely insane, but Daud still trusts Pyne to believe it’s an incredibly ingenious plan.

He also trusts the Pynes to be desperate enough to smuggle the witches into the Tower so they can set up the spore capsules filled with pink elixir. Daud frowns when he asks himself how they’ve accomplished that, but he recalls Pyne always having one or two decidedly too young and too pretty handmaidens around him, and he’s sure it would have been no problem to grant the witches access to the Tower disguised in that way.

The question now is why in the Void have the witches let the Pynes down at the very last moment? The two nobles have obviously prepared for the attack, trusted Breanna and her followers to stick to the plan. Still, Daud and Corvo haven’t found a trace of the promised trap. Even Corvo’s suggestion that they might have hidden the pink spores in a very inconspicuous form turned out to be wrong, because the vines never hatched like Breanna had warned they would.

Daud growls, staring at the board. There is a summary of the coven’s movement listed up, starting somewhere in Draper’s Ward, moving closer to the tower in the underground below the Estate District and finally they holed up in Pyne mansion. So, most of the time Breanna and her coven had been working alone, independent from the nobles who give them shelter. Their alliance with the Pynes must have happened very late.

At some point, Daud realizes, the witches seemed to have been in dire need of a larger house to keep them safe and their vines hidden, so they can produce their pink elixir in larger quantities. And Pyne seemed to have been only too eager to offer them a safe hideout, in exchange for…

For what?

Daud stops dead in his stride, frowning.

The witches have promised the Pynes to help them bring their useless son into the position of Lord Protector, something Pyne had been dallying with even before the downfall of their house, before he started hating the Kaldwins. In exchange for this generous promise Pyne gave the witches a home to follow their dark business in, and even a source for human meat to feed their green monstrosities.

But what if Breanna and her witches never intended to keep their promise?

What if they betrayed the Pynes, never actually planning to help them?

What if the witches only used the nobles to get access to the Tower, setting up the trap somewhere else…?

Daud’s heartbeat violently stutters to a stop, and he pauses, eyes fixed on empty air.

He recalls the witch his men caught in the underground laboratory, the one who killed herself before the Whalers got the chance to question her. The letter she swallowed, undoubtedly a scrap of conversation with Lord Pyne. Back then, the Whalers and him had assumed the witches were after Empress Emily as an ultimate target, and them trying to end what Delilah couldn’t had seemed like the only logical conclusion given Delilah’s feverish attempts at attacking the girl.

Daud recalls the captured witch’s words before she died, and when he does realization hits him like a plunge in ice-cold water.

They want to revenge Delilah’s death, and they are _not_ trying to accomplish that by going after Emily.

They don’t care about the Pynes, or the other court members, or Emily, or Corvo.

The witches are after Daud.

Daud curses wildly and starts running. How stupid of him, to assume anything other than the witches directing their efforts against him, the murderer of their beloved leader. Now it makes perfect sense that the announced assault in the court hall this afternoon hadn’t happened. Of course the witches hadn’t attacked during the court session, because Daud, their target, wasn’t present then. They had known that, since the list of attendants had been sent out to all members weeks before, and to Lord Pyne as well.

Breanna and her witches must have set up the trap somewhere else in the Tower, to let it spring as soon as Daud is attending a scheduled meeting. Why in the Void had Daud not thought of that earlier? Of course the witches wouldn’t give a shit about Lord Pyne’s pathetic desires, and only become allies with him to get the chance at getting close to Daud, the killer of their beloved Delilah.

If it wasn’t for Daud being sick and tired of that damned woman causing him trouble even after her death, he’d laugh at the irony of another act of vengeance directed his way. Only this time, he doesn’t regret a thing.

Cursing himself Daud transverses through the corridors as fast as he can, mind racing. He knows now, he is sure that the witches will attack during the next chance the Spymaster, their actual target, is present, and that next scheduled meeting is with Empress Emily in the throne room. Right now. He needs to find Corvo and warn him.

His lungs hurt from the rapid usage of his arcane powers when Daud arrives at the throne room. Some heads turn when the present politicians and nobles see him arrive, panting from his run. Daud couldn’t care less, he hurries to make his way past the large trellises of decorative flowers growing all the way up to the high ceiling. He approaches Corvo and Emily who shoot him worried glances from the throne on the dais. While he strides over to them, Daud sees the Pynes standing to the side with outraged expressions on their faces. Apparently they have finally realized that they had been betrayed, and are without a doubt confused and disappointed about their allies’ double-dealing. Daud also registers the silhouettes of some of his Whalers moving outside from window to window, ready to come in at his command.

Finally Daud reaches Corvo and Empress Emily, who has been listening to the luxury problems of some noble. When Corvo sees the urgent expression on Daud’s face he gives Emily a gentle nudge. His daughter understands immediately and excuses the whining noble as politely as she can. When they are alone on the dais, Daud steps closer to them so they can talk without anyone else hearing them.

“Daud! You look worried. Is anything wrong?” Emily wants to know, looking horribly small in the large throne. Daud feels a lump in his throat when he looks at her, the honest concern in her eyes. He briefly recalls the short talk they had together before they came here, and he hopes with all his heart that Emily will follow his advice should this turn ugly.

“Corvo, we’ve been wrong all the time,” Daud hurries to whisper to his soulmate. “The witches never intended to help the Pynes. They only used them to get a good hideout and easy access to the Tower. They want to take revenge for the death of Delilah.”

Corvo blinks, taken aback, and interrupts Daud by lifting his hands. _That does explain why they didn’t show up this afternoon like they promised the Pynes. But what do they want to do instead?_

Daud waist impatiently until Corvo is finished, feeling his hands itch and his spine crawl with a sense of danger. “Corvo, hear me out! They are after _me_.”

Corvo looks like he’s been punched. _What?_

“I killed Delilah, to make sure she doesn’t come back. And now the witches are after me, to revenge her death. Breanna and her followers never set up the trap in the court hall like they made the Pynes believe. I wasn’t supposed to be in the court hall anyway. They knew I would be here in the throne room, now, this day. Corvo, I think they are…”

Daud doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because all of a sudden, many things happen in rapid succession. There is a female scream from the far end of the hall, and an eerie scratching sound can be heard, as if something is trying to dig its way through the earth into the sun. Beams of sunlight float in from outside and draw shaky patterns on the black marble on the floor, casting their warmth onto the high trellises of flowers surrounding every pillar in the throne room.

The shadows between the flowers glow pink, and then they _move_.

A vine as long as the hall erupts from the flowerbed at the base of a pillar and snatches at a noble woman nearby, whipping her to the side like a leaf in the wind. The vine lashes out against a man who barely manages to jump to the side and grabs a small table instead, crushing it into a heap of wooden splinters. Another vines erupts from a trellis and starts gripping for prey like the cut-off tentacle of a squid, the scratches when the thorns scrape across the floor mingling with horrified screams. Guards try to usher the panicking attendants into safety when there is none, drawing their blades in the futile attempt to ward the vines off. One after another they grow out of the trellises by the pillars until the room is filled with them, large as ten men and twice as thick, forming branches that creep and search for something to wrap around like blind snakes.

Daud and Corvo instinctively jump in front of Emily, swords drawn side by side, and Daud makes a fist as he calls his men inside the hall. In the short moments it takes Daud’s men to transverse down into the throne room, Daud registers Corvo giving one of his officers a signal to bring as many people into safety as possible, but to Daud it seems that every effort is futile in the chaos of screams and gripping vines that unfolds.

Daud’s first instinct is to grab Emily and bring her out of the room as fast as possible, and Corvo seems to have come to the same conclusion, but when Daud sees him starting for the backdoor with Emily in his arms in the corner of his eye, there is another vine blocking the exit like an oversized green snake, a mass of sharp thorns and spikes. The door and all of the windows are blocked or too dangerous to pass with a little girl in one’s arms, and Corvo realizes it in the same moment as Daud. Daud calls for him and Corvo brings Emily back to the throne dais so they have the wall in their backs, both ready to shield Emily between the two of them.

The Whalers appear, blades drawn and wristbows ready, and form a half circle around the throne dais, fencing with the vines and shooting explosive bolts at the oversized plants. The whiplash end of a vine shoots past a clerk, on its way ripping a bleeding gash into the man’s side and hurling a table out of the way as if it was made of paper, and grips for Vladko’s ankle, lifting him up in the air. Alerted by Thomas’ shout, Daud snatches a knife from a pouch and throws it at the plant, lopping the vine right through while raining angry blows at another vine approaching from the other side. Vladko falls to the floor and Thomas is there to catch him, and he’s on his feet a second later, slamming himself into a noble lady to prevent her from getting pierced by a row of thorns. Next to Daud’s side Corvo fights like a wild animal with Emily behind him, precise and relentless and putting all of his strength in every slash. The vines are new, much larger than the ones Daud already saw, thicker and longer and almost impervious to fire and steel.

“This is useless!” Daud barks over the noise of screams, gunfire and splintering wood. “The Pynes have the antidote! The orange stuff attached to their wrists! Go get it!”

Six of his men obey immediately and make their way through the living maze of whipping vines and screaming humans, using a mixture of magic and brute force to reach the Pynes. Between two violent slashes Daud catches a glimpse of them, the older Lord Pyne cowering in a corner and his son hidden behind a pillar, his gilded sword trembling in his hands. Daud hopes stubbornly that his men manage to reach them and fetch the vine-killing substance the Pynes are carrying, because right now that seems the only way he can imagine to destroy those green monstrosities. He’d do it himself if he could force himself to part from Corvo’s side, but he is not willing to do so for as much as a heartbeat. Instead, Daud trusts in his Whalers and waits impatiently for them to return, warding off the vines with his blade as well as he can and holding them at bay with his Tethering.

By now, somebody had managed to open the large double doors to the throne room, but gotten ripped into unrecognizable red shreds while trying to get out, and as far as Daud can see most people have tried finding some hiding spot in corners that the vines can’t reach. Most of the plants are oozing green, sticky sap all over the place from cuts and gunshots, but they don’t seem to relent and Daud’s only hope is the orange substance now. It’s a fucking mess, and just when Daud thinks that it couldn’t get worse, there are shadows moving on the roof.

Daud curses wildly, but his voice is swallowed by the sound of glass breaking followed by a rain of shards. More than two dozen Brigmore witches appear through the broken windows, Breanna the first to enter, armed with crossbow and sword.

Their crossbows glow pink.

“There he is, dear sisters! The little toad himself, the old Knife that killed our lady. Damn you Daud! We’ll make you bleed for what you did!” Breanna screams, and Daud manages to shout a warning when she shoots a pink dart at him.

It hits the carpet and immediately a vine erupts between Daud and Emily, and Daud hacks it into pieces with rapid slashes before it can grown large enough to hurt her. He turns, snarling, facing the witches.

They spread out in the hall, shooting their pink darts into every available surface to form a path for themselves as they move towards the throne. The tower guards are not much of a help since they are too busy trying not to get killed, but the Whalers are on them immediately.

Or, they try to.

Daud realizes that the mass of vines the witches are able to summon on almost every damn surface in the hall is making it near impossible to use Transversals, or pull objects towards him without a vine getting in the way. He tries to make his way towards a witch to stop her from raining shots in the direction of Corvo and Emily and regrets it immediately. While transversing towards her, he runs into a vine lashing out randomly in all directions and suffers a bad cut on his hip. Daud stops time long enough to lop the left hand of the witch off, rendering her unable to fight and quickly grabbing the pouch of orange-glowing darts attached to her belt, but when he’s back at Corvo’s side by the throne his head hurts from the usage of so much mental energy. Corvo and the Whalers have the same problem, and are confined to using their blades, not able to exploit their arcane powers as much as they would like to. It gives the witches an unfair advantage and the mass of vines they hatch chaotically all over the place turns the fight into more of a desperate struggle than a carefully planned assault.

Daud tosses the orange darts to Anthony who immediately places them in his wristbow and shoots them at one of the nearby large vines, and the parts of the plant that get hit turn black and die. It’s a step forward, but only a painfully small one, and Daud realizes grudgingly that the witches will let their vines tear the entire hall, his Whalers and even every single one of their own coven sisters into bloody ribbons to get to him, no matter the cost.

As long as Daud is here, it’s only a matter of time until Emily or Corvo get hurt.

Daud snarls and slashes a vine in half as it grabs for him, and turns, catching his breath, staring at his soulmate, the man he loves.

He makes a decision.

“Corvo, I have to leave. They are after me, not you or Emily. I’ll lure them away and you and the men take care of the mess in here,” Daud says.

Corvo, just lowering his hand again after warding off a shower of pink darts aimed at Daud with a powerful wind blast, turns his head sharply and returns Daud’s stare, eyes wide with panic.

He shakes his head, lips moving to mouth _no_.

Daud feels like his heart is breaking, but he retreats, sword drawn. “I have to, please understand! I’m sorry I’m leaving you to this, but they won’t stop until they have me cornered. I’ll take them on, I promise. I’ll be fine. I promise. Take care of Emily.”

Daud makes to leave, takes another step. Corvo, rooted to the spot he’s standing on with Emily sheltered behind his sword hand, reaches out for Daud with the other, as if trying to hold him back only by his will.

Daud manages a smile, humorless and sad. “Sorry, Corvo. But you made a promise yourself.”

Panic creeps over Corvo’s beautiful features as he realizes what Daud is asking of him. Daud knows he’s forcing Corvo to choose between his soulmate and his daughter, and he can feel the pain Corvo is experiencing, torn and desperate in his wish to just run after Daud and fight by his side, but knowing that he can’t because his daughter needs him more.

It has to be this way.

Daud turns his head and finds Thomas with his eyes. He has the perfume bottles in his hands that he finally managed to snatch from the Pynes and hands one over to Misha.

“Thomas! Take over. The witches are after me alone, I’m leading them away. Do what you can to take care of this nightmare, and only follow me when the situation is under your control and the Empress is safe, is that clear?”

Thomas nods, the borrowed mark on his hand flaring blue and green, and Daud trusts he will obey to the letter. He flips his blade in his hand, readying himself to battle his way outside, when Daud hears an urgent, desperate sound that makes him turn once more.

Corvo tried to call out for him, more a cry than a word. His soulmate has tears in his eyes, but he stays where he is, next to his daughter who stares at Daud with wide, worried eyes. Corvo’s stare bores into Daud’s very soul, speaking volumes without words, and then Corvo lifts his left hand, the hint of a gentle, affectionate smile playing over his lips before it vanishes into a desperate frown again, a silent plea for Daud to return safely, and Corvo fingerspells three letters.

A part deep inside Daud refuses to understand, refuses to be able to read the letters Corvo signs, and a part inside him breaks when he does while another blazes with something he can’t name.

_I._

_L._

_Y._

Daud is sure that this is the hardest thing he ever had to do in his entire life, but he turns around and runs.

* * *

 

Corvo watches with a raging feeling of helplessness spreading in his chest as Daud turns, calling out for the witches, barking taunts at them. Breanna and her followers react immediately, fleeing the duels they had with Whalers and running after him, their path scattered with the vines they spread. Many of the witches have suffered wounds from blades and their own plants, some have died, ripped apart by their own monstrosities, but most of them are still there, and when they leave the difference is immediate. There are still an uncountable number of vines lashing out against everything within reach, but at least there are no new ones erupting.

Corvo is still sheltering Emily behind him and incredibly thankful about the Whalers sticking around the throne, helping him to ward off the plants that come too close in their blind search for something to crush. The orange vine-killing elixir Thomas managed to take from Lord Pyne and his son is working wonders, and they focus on killing the largest vines first while cutting the smaller ones with their swords. The guards usher injured people out of the hall through the double door Daud left through as soon as they can, but more than a few of them get injured even worse when they attempt to leave through the mass of vines, and Corvo doesn’t even dare to try and take Emily away through that exit. It’s relatively safe where they are now, the wall at their back and Whalers around them, as long as they manage to get the vines under control.

“Corvo, why did Daud leave? Will he come back?” Emily asks, eyes wide with concern.

_The attackers are here for him, not for you. He’s leading them away so you are safe._

Even signing the words hurts him, and Corvo has to take a deep breath to steady himself.

Emily frowns. “They look just like the lady with the flower dress I saw recently. Daud has had trouble with them for quite a while, hasn’t he?”

By the Isles, his little girl is smart. _Yes. They are old enemies. I’ll explain it to you later._

“I hope Daud is alright,” she says, ducking behind Corvo when another vine lashes down on them so Corvo can cut it down.

_Me too_ , he signs, heart screaming and every one of his thoughts circling around Daud.

Every passing second feels like an eternity, but slowly, the fight with the monstrous plants is getting under control. One by one the vines die down as soon as the softly glowing spray from the perfume bottles wielded by Misha and Thomas touches them. While Thomas causes a plant thick as a grown man to shrivel into a pathetic brown mass he’s coordinating the other Whalers to fan out and hold another one at bay so Misha can kill it with her own elixir. He’s doing his job well, Corvo acknowledges. Thomas does his role as Daud’s second in command justice, giving orders and jumping into battle where he’s needed most just like Daud himself would.

A young Whaler next to Corvo, Pickford probably, suddenly makes a leap to the right and Corvo stifles an alerted cry when a vine shoots past him like the point of a spear, missing his eyes by a hair’s breadth. The vine wraps around the Whaler’s chest instead and sends his sword flying, squeezing like a snake around a rat. Corvo starts and blinks by the Whaler’s side immediately. The man makes choked noises hissing through the respirator of his mask, squirming in the suffocating grip, and Corvo hurries to sever the plant with swift strikes of his blade to cut it before the thorns can pierce the leather coat the man wears. It takes several slashes until the damn plant is cut, and Corvo helps Pickford struggle out of the remains of the vine, green sap oozing down his coat.

Pickford turns and nods to Corvo to thank him, immediately fetching the sword he dropped.

Somewhere behind Corvo, Emily shrieks.

A surge of ice-cold panic explodes inside Corvo’s chest and he spins around, only to see that Emily is being driven backwards into a corner by a broad-shouldered figure, her dark, big eyes wide open in horror. There is nobody around to help her, all Whalers are busy with their own fights, and Corvo realizes with a mixture of anger and white-hot fear that he’s not been paying attention for as long as it took him to help Pickford, and a desperate shout escapes him as he starts forward to Emily.

The figure approaching her wields a sword, golden and studded with gemstones, and Corvo, with a corner of his mind that is not being drowned out by panic, realizes that it is Lord Pyne’s son, dashing at Emily with his sword raised.

“I should have been Lord Protector! I should have been! Father promised me, Burrows promised me, Breanna promised me, and you ruined it! I always get what I want!” Hendric Pyne yells hysterically. He is covered in bleeding scratches and sounds like he’s lost his mind, and Emily shrieks Corvo’s name, calls for help.

Corvo tries to bend time to save precious seconds as he darts forward, but he’s exhausted his mental reserves and runs instead, runs as fast as he can, and he can’t help the memory erupting inside his head, the Void with Jessamine’s bloody form on the floor, a letter in her cold hand, the letter saying _youcannotsaveheryoucannotsaveheryoucannotsavehe_ r.

Corvo blinks forward, too late, and Hendric Pyne lifts his sword with a mad roar escaping his chest, the gold glistening in the sun, and Emily’s horrified wail is going to ring forever in Corvo’s ears.

And then Hendric Pyne falls silent, just like that, and stops. He freezes in his motion, and the sword clatters noisily to the ground as it slips from his limp fingers.

Lord Pyne slumps on the ground, stiff and lifeless, and behind him Emily appears, her left hand raised.

There is a wristbow attached to her arm, hidden behind the ruffles of her sleeve.

She’s breathing hard, tears in her eyes, and Corvo hurries to get past his initial shock as he realizes that Emily had fired the shot herself.

“Corvo!”

Corvo sweeps her into his arms, inwardly speaking prayer after prayer of relief and holds her as gently and tightly as he can, his inside singing with utter thankfulness. His daughter tucks her head under his neck and the part of Corvo that is not fervently scanning the room for any more dangers directed her way relishes the feeling of her soft hair against his chin, and her warm, small form in his arms, breathing and very much alive.

Eventually, Emily withdraws a little and peeks up at him, and Corvo touches her wristbow, a questioning look on his face.

“Did you see that? I shot him myself! I did it!”

Behind the tears she looks proud, and Corvo hurries to make an approving sound, as worried as he still is, everything to show her that she is alright again.

“Daud gave it to me. He told me maybe I would need it. He said I should just use it in emergencies. This was an emergency, wasn’t it?”

Something worried crosses her features, and Corvo’s eyes flick down to Pyne’s still form. The fletching of a green sleep dart pokes out from his neck, and Corvo lets out a discreet sigh of relief. She hasn’t killed him, just knocked him out. Corvo should have guessed that Daud wouldn’t arm Emily with something that allows her to kill people with so much as a twist of her hand, but still, her shot was very precise and Hendric Pyne had gone down as quickly as if the shot had been lethal.

Daud had saved his daughter, again.

Corvo makes a soft sound and nods, and actually feels a surge of pride warming his heart, reaching an almost giddy peak when it mingles with the relief that his daughter is unharmed. Corvo ruffles Emily’s hair, turning to shield her. When he looks around the hall is seems like most of the plants are dead, the survivors assembled in a disheveled-looking group. The Whalers seem to be getting closer to having the situation under control, more or less.

Corvo feels an angry smile tug at his lips when he spots Montgomery and Jenkins turning the upper half of Lord Pyne’s corpse around, ripped in half by a vine as he attempted to flee.

Thomas blinks up by Corvo’s side, the point of his mask flicking between Pyne’s unconscious son and Corvo.

“Six casualties, four of them witches, and more wounds than we could count. What happened here?” he reports and points to Pyne’s body.

Corvo gives Emily a look and she understands, explaining.

“Pyne’s stupid son got crazy and attacked me, but I shot him and now he sleeps.”

Thomas offers her a little bow. “Good aiming, your Highness. With what?”

“Daud’s wristbow. He gave it to me before I came here.”

Corvo notices the sudden change in Thomas’ posture, becoming something alert and worried. “Your Highness… Did Daud give it to you before you came in the throne room?”

“Yes. He said he had the feeling I might need it.”

Corvo’s head jerks up to meet Thomas’ unmoving stare hidden behind the dark glass of his mask, but he doesn’t need to see the man’s expression to know that it is the same as his, cold panic flooding him at the realization.

“Corvo, Daud doesn’t have his wristbow on him, and he’s alone with most of the coven. He only has his sword and magic. Most of the vines are dead, and the survivors are safe. The Empress is safe. We need to go help Daud, now!”

Corvo nods, brusquely marching over to one of his officers. He places Emily by the man and makes sure she promises him to stay with the guards and _not_ shoot any other people while Thomas assembles the Whalers. There are still some vines lashing out for the people fleeing through puddles of blood, green sap and debris, but Corvo and Thomas decide the guards can finish this without their help. Now that Emily is finally safe Corvo can allow himself to focus all his energy on his soulmate, and together with the Whalers he blinks out of the hall, into the Tower premises.

A part of Corvo is almost angry at Daud for being so reckless as to go take on the coven alone, but Corvo also has to acknowledge wryly that it was the only way to prevent the witches from tearing everybody between Daud and them to pieces. It was the only way, and it’s almost as if Daud had somehow _known_ , instinctively felt maybe, that Corvo would need to decide between Emily and him at one point. Corvo had wished to be able to send some men after him but he also knows that they’d needed every single Whaler in the hall to ward off the monstrous vines, and if it wasn’t for Daud leading the witches away the few casualties would have been many, many more, maybe even including Emily. Without Daud, this would have turned into a massacre.

That Corvo decided to stay with his daughter what Daud would have insisted in, what he made Corvo promise him, putting his life on the line just to keep his men safe, and Emily, and his soulmate, but it still hurts so deeply inside Corvo’s chest that he can hardly breathe. Corvo suppresses a shudder when he thinks back on the expression on Daud’s face when Corvo had signed those three letters to him, and how much he had wished for him to be able to answer.

* * *

 

There is a part of Daud that deeply regrets not taking a few barrels of whale oil and lighting all of Brigmore manor on fire after having killed Delilah, so her entire ill-bred coven could follow her into the grave. He curses wildly as a vine erupts from a spot of soil next to him and grips his sword arm, forcing him to switch his blade to his other hand to cut it. Somewhere behind the wall, he can hear the triumphant yell of one of the witches as she rains more darts on him, and Daud answers that with a sleep dart rammed into her neck that knocks her out after a few seconds of stumbling about. She is immediately replaced by one of her sisters and Daud continues running.

He transverses from hideout to hideout, always making sure the witches see where he is going so he can lure them away from the throne room. The coven spreads whipping thorns as they follow him through the decorative hedge-maze over the wall into the Tower garden, here and there leaving knocked-out witches behind.

Daud bleeds from a number of cuts the sharp thorns left in his coat and some of them stick in his side from when he ran into vines during transversals, barely escaping their grip as they shoot out of the ground. His lungs burn from the constant sprinting and he feels his stamina reaching a point that starts to worry him. He really misses his wristbow since using sleep darts manually requires him to get very close to his targets, but knowing that Emily has a secret emergency weapon on her is worth every effort, even if it risks his own safety. He’d love to summon one of his Whalers to aid him, and he knows he always could, but still Daud stubbornly refuses to do so. Corvo and Emily and most of his men are trapped inside the throne room with a hundred vines ripping everything they touch into shreds and Daud knows they need every one of his Whalers to get the situation under control.

Daud sneaks up on a witch, spins her around and rams a sleep dart into her neck, just dipping the point in her flesh. Her sister notices and shrieks wildly, aiming at him with her pink darts, but collapses unconsciously a second later. Daud vanishes into the shadows of a wall, letting Breanna see him for only a heartbeat before he transverses away, allowing her to follow.

It’s incredibly exhausting and the unpleasant sensation of bloodied skin sticking to the fabric of his clothing costs Daud concentration, but he keeps going, fighting the witches back while luring them away. One by one they fall, choked out or drugged to sleep, until Daud loses count of how many there are left. They have fanned out over the garden, he realizes vaguely while scanning the area, with Breanna still following him and some of her sisters spreading in the premises. They are trying to encircle him, he notices grimly, but Daud doesn’t fall for beginner’s tricks just like that. He retreats like they expect him to, chased by a whole thicket of gripping vines, only to change his direction mid-stride and reappear behind a witch to wrap his arm around her throat.

A scratching sound behind him has him turn, and Daud only sees a pink glow in the corner of his vision, giving him a split second to stop time.

The world turns gray, and Daud realizes the witch sneaking up behind him doesn’t have a dart filled with the spore elixir, but some sort of grenade, a bottle full of it, suspended in mid-flight. Daud hurries to bring some distance between himself and the witches and when time snaps back into place he watches the makeshift grenade hit the ground.

A whole bottle full of pink elixir spills out and the vine that grows from the earth is monstrous, large enough to pick up a blood ox and toss is around like a toy. Wary for more witches with large doses of spores like this, Daud retreats up a staircase, carefully avoiding another witch that yells his name in random directions while looking for him.

And suddenly, without really intending to go there, he’s standing in the gazebo.

Daud freezes, his heartbeat stuttering to a stop for a few moments, and stares at the elegant pillars of white marble, the flowers growing around the stone, the simple golden headstone on the floor where Jessamine Kaldwin’s body is resting.

This is where he killed her, where he first looked into the eyes of his soulmate.

An unpleasant laugh startles Daud from his involuntary daze, and Daud swivels around. Breanna Ashworth is standing on the railing of the gazebo, the Dunwall silhouette and the Wrenhaven behind her, laughing at him. In her arms she’s holding a whale oil container, but there is no blue-glowing whale oil in there. The container is filled to the brim with the pink elixir. She cradles it like a child, grinning smartly when she registers Daud’s eyes flicking down to the weapon she is holding, probably knowing that he imagines the size of the vine that would grow should she decide to spill the pink elixir in one go.

“And there you are, little toad, like a rat in a corner,” Breanna drawls, a triumphant smirk on her face. “There is no escape from the trap we laid out for you. A shame, I would have loved to see you die together with the Empress’ quiet Serkonan bastard father you share a bed with, but every other place serves just as fine to rip open your belly and read the future from your guts. He can collect your pieces once we’re done with you. Isn’t that so, my dear sisters?”

Daud turns his head only a fraction, registering with an annoyed frown that he’s surrounded by witches, all of them armed with pink darts, answering their leader’s taunt with smug laughter. Breanna continues her triumphant speech as if she’s sure that Daud is as good as defeated, and Daud slowly turns back to her, his eyes spelling murder.

“Almost two years ago you killed our beloved Delilah, and her trusted coven never forgot your sins! Now, little Daud, it is time for you to pay for…”

“Outsider’s arse, shut up! I’m sick and tired of Delilah, and that ratshit conspiracy of yours!” Daud interrupts her with blazing eyes, causing her to stop dead in her speech with an indignant expression on her face, and Daud can’t help but continue. “I don’t know what she promised you, but Delilah was completely insane, and you are all completely insane for following her stupid plans, and I’m not even surprised that you managed to convince the Pyne idiots that this piece of shit plan of yours is a brilliant masterpiece because they are also completely insane!”

It takes Breanna a moment before she closes her mouth again, and then the astonishment in her expression turns into pure hatred. She’s fidgeting dangerously with the oil tank filled with pink horror.

“Rip him into shreds!” she yells in blind fury, and the witches scream with anger and aim a dozen crossbows at Daud.

Daud closes his eyes, musters all his leftover power and stops time.

The witches freeze, bolts suspended in midair, and Daud marches from one to the next and jabs a sleep dart into each of their necks, before he collects the bolts out of the air and returns to the middle of the gazebo. Time moves on, and when it does the leftover witches all collapse as one but for their new leader.

The expression on Breanna’s face almost makes Daud smirk, but he’s way too annoyed to do so. He’s bleeding from a dozen cuts and exhausted to the bone, and just wants this to be over, for Corvo, his men and Emily to be safe.

“Face it, Breanna. Delilah is dead, and the world’s a better place for it,” Daud growls, slowly moving towards her, his sword drawn. His mind is racing as he imagines what would happen should she drop the oil tank filled to the brim with spore elixir and the size of the vine that would erupt from it. Breanna is holding a time bomb ready to explode that would kill both of them immediately. Daud needs to disarm her, and quickly. Putting her to sleep is no option since the tank would break as soon as it slips from her grip, and pulling it towards him is something Daud doesn’t want to risk either. He’s seen what happens when a drop hits organic surface, and so much as a dribble on his coat could result in a vine sprouting from his chest.

“Stay back, you filthy thing. You killed her! Delilah was a genius!” Breanna snaps, her hands trembling.

“Delilah was drunk with power and revenge and ready to kill everything in her way to get her throne. If she had become Empress, she would have reigned over a pile of corpses in a rotting Empire, and probably not even noticed,” Daud comes back calmly, inching closer.

“Of course you don’t feel remorse, how could a heartless knife feel anything like that?”

“Yes, I do. I deeply regret the things I did, and I atoned for my crimes as well as I could. I earned forgiveness by some,” Daud says, his thoughts straying to Corvo’s gentle words when he forgave him his past, and the small part inside him that still doesn’t truly see the debt settled flares up with pain. He fixes his eyes on Breanna, boring into her with his stare.

“But if there is one thing I’ll never regret, it’s killing Delilah.”

At that, Breanna’s features twist into a rage that causes Daud to back up, and she lets out a desperate scream. She throws herself at him, the tank in her shaking arms, reckless and mad with fury.

Everything happens very fast, on instinct, Daud’s movements only steered by the desperate attempt to prevent the spore tank from shattering on the ground. He drops his sword when Breanna slams into him, and there are a few precarious seconds of wrestling and struggling and Daud trying to get a hold of the surprisingly strong Breanna, her power fuelled by rage, and then she grabs his collar and twists it, momentarily choking him, and drags him to the edge of the gazebo.

Daud can see the churning waters of the deep Wrenhaven down below for a moment before he snaps out of his vertigo and he reaches for the dagger he keeps in a pouch on his side. He slams it into her hand and is rewarded with a painful scream. She loosens her grip and Daud spins her around, twisting her wrists back until she lets go of his collar, finally allowing him to breathe against burning lungs. Breanna attempts one last time to drag Daud over the edge with her and he stabs her arm with the dagger again, punching her on the side of her head and finally pushes her away from him before she can drag him down with him.

Breanna stumbles over the edge, falling down the cliff, the spore tank clutched in her arms, and with an outraged scream she vanishes.

Daud leans over the edge, breathing heavily. His throat stings and hurts from where she had clenched his collar and some of his cuts have opened again, fresh blood staining his shirt, but he is alive, and Breanna and her damn pot of elixir are gone. He watches her getting engulfed by the dark water, the pink glow of the spore elixir visible under the waves before it vanishes into the depths as well.

Any feelings of remorse Daud could have over her death are drowned out by the knowledge that this is over, finally, and his soulmate is safe. At least, he hopes so.

Daud turns, holding his aching hip with a curse hissed through clenched teeth. He can see Thomas and Corvo approach from the other side of the Tower garden, letting his heart make a relived little jump because it means that Emily is alright, and the danger is over. The sight of Corvo alone causes his tiredness to melt away into a warm, gentle feeling of affection.

Daud limps a few steps forward, but then he stops, frowning. Corvo is waving his arms, a horrified expression on his face, and Thomas shouts something Daud can’t understand from this distance. They try to cross the garden as fast as they can with blinks and Transversals, and Daud starts to get worried.

He opens his mouth, but before he can even draw breath there is a sharp pain lancing up his right leg, and something clamps down around his ankle. Daud starts forward and turns, but then something incredibly powerful _pulls_ and rips him to the ground. Daud hits the stone floor, dots dancing in front of his eyes at the impact. He can feel sharp things piercing into his ankle and then up his leg, wrapping around his middle and squeezing the air out of his chest.

It’s a vine, longer than a whale, every inch of its wrinkled green surface covered in sharp spikes, the cracks in the bark glowing softly pink from the inside. It rises up from the Wrenhaven below, growing all the way up the cliff to the gazebo and hovering like a poised snake above Daud, one branch wrapped around his middle. He lets out a pained groan and twists in the grip of the plant, causing the thorns to sink deeper in his flesh, turning to reach his sword lying on the ground next to Jessamine’s headstone, almost, just an inch more…

The vine pulls, an otherworldly strength he can’t even hope to fight against, but Daud tries, his fingers slipping over the marble, trying to grip for any kind of hold, anything, and he tries to lift his left hand and shoot a bolt in the plant only to remember in an almost ironic notion that he had given Emily his wristbow in case she gets attacked.

The last thing Daud hears before the howling of the wind drowns out every other sound is Corvo’s desperate cry when the vine rips him over the edge and drags him down the cliff.

There is a moment of free falling and a second later the vine drags him under the surface, and the shockingly ice-cold waves of the Wrenhaven envelop him. Daud instinctively closes his mouth and tries not to inhale any of the cold, brackish water while desperately searching his pouches for anything to free himself. He tries ramming his dagger into the vine, severing the branch wrapped around his torso like a snake trying to strangle a rat, but it’s useless, the plant is too thick. He slams an explosive dart through the bark, aiming for a crack with pink light glowing through, and the dart explodes, but under water it’s merely a cloud of bubbles, nothing more, not enough to even fracture the plant.

The vine pulls Daud deeper and deeper, the surface a faraway glint somewhere above, but Daud has long lost all sense of gravity. His lungs feel like they are burning and through the pain of his cuts it’s getting so very hard not to inhale. He fights, struggles against the death grip the vine has on him as it sinks down in the depths with its prey, but his strength is leaving him, he’s bleeding and by now his lungs feel like they are bursting.

In a desperate attempt to make the plant lose its grip, Daud stabs it repeatedly with a bolt as hard as he can, and it twitches, but it doesn’t let go. Finally, without him able to do anything about it, the water fills Daud’s lungs like liquid fire, filling him with panic, desperately struggling against the pull, the pressure, the icy water slowly numbing his limps.

Despite his efforts, Daud can slowly feels his consciousness slip away, his muscles going cold and numb. He realizes with a last, sudden clearness that he won’t get out of this alive. His thoughts move sluggish and slow as if stuck in honey, and he gives up, at the end of his strength, unable to keep fighting.

The clearness wipes away the pain, turning it into an almost gentle, numbing relief, and Daud realizes that _this_ is the last thing he can do, the last thing to pay for what he did in his past. He put his own life on the line by taking on the coven alone and giving one of his weapons to Emily, and by this, by sacrificing himself for Emily and his soulmate, his loved ones, making sure they are safe, and unharmed, he can finally make up for all the things he did to them.

By this, the debt is settled, because what more could Daud give than his life in exchange for theirs?

Daud’s mind is filled with the image of Corvo’s beautiful eyes and his gentle smile when he holds him close, of the three letters he signed to him before Daud turned and left to make sure his soulmate and daughter are safe. _I, L, Y_.

_I love you._

The last thought straying through Daud’s fading mind is that at least, now he knows that Corvo returns the love he feels for him.

And with that, he lets go.

* * *

 

The first change Daud feels is the stop of the constant dragging motion that pulls him downward into the depth.

He just realizes that he’d stopped sinking when the pull of cold water around him comes to a halt.

The second change he registers is that he can _breathe_.

Daud opens his eyes, blinking in confusion. He is suspended in the seawater, cold and dark around him, as if time has frozen and the vine holds him up in the air, though he feels strangely weightless. At first, Daud can’t see anything, but then the thin pink glow emitting from the vine still clenched around his middle casts a strange, pale light on his surroundings. The pain is gone, Daud registers faintly, and from one of his wounds a small tendril of blood rises up like a blossom, also frozen in the ocean water. Daud feels something like a mild sense of surprise as he turns his head and takes in his surroundings.

The vine erupts from a soft pink glow somewhere in the depths, and he realizes it must have sprouted from the whale oil tank filled with the spore elixir Breanna had in her arms when she fell. Daud briefly wonders why the plant had sprouted in water, but after all, that’s something Jenkins had never actually tested, and now that he thinks about it, it does make sense that the spores grow in water as well.

Then Daud spots Breanna, a few paces away from him. She’s dead, her eyes staring up at the distant surface and her mouth open in a silent scream, a briar-covered vine sticking out from her chest with a still cloud of blood around her.

For a moment, Daud thinks he is dead too. Then he can hear a sound, quiet and yet so intense that he knows it’s an enormous, powerful sound, only very far away in the distance.

A long, massive silhouette slides smoothly, slowly over Breanna’s corpse and Daud, singing its melancholic song. Daud realizes that he is no longer in the depth beneath the cliff at the foot of Dunwall Tower, because the whales never ventures that close to the city. And they never grow as large as this one.

Daud has been transported… somewhere else.

The whale moves away, and the pink glow emitted from the vine turns a deep shade of purple.

From a cloud of blackness, the Outsider appears, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The expression on his pale, gaunt face is not the usual condescending smile, but a disappointed, stubborn frown that looks completely out of place on the deity.

“I will _not_ allow this,” the Outsider states dryly, his voice a tone as if he had just been horribly insulted.

Daud, now slowly coming to the realization that he is, in fact, _not_ dead, or at least not _yet_ , frowns back.

“Did you just freeze time around me to stop me from drowning?” he asks, surprised that he can use his voice under water, but apparently, the Outsider had halted space and time around them momentarily, like he does when Daud stands at his shrines.

The Outsider doesn’t grace that with an answer. Instead, he turns to the side a little and starts moving around Daud as if the ocean under his feet was solid ground. The Outsider slowly shakes his head.

“Daud, I always believed you were one of the smartest among my Marked ones, but I’m starting to think you are not.”

Daud scowls, entirely unprepared for getting insulted by the Outsider after just having accepted the thought that his life had come to an end. Or was this the afterlife, an eternal tirade of getting to endure the Outsider’s jibes?

Please no. He couldn’t think of anything worse.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Daud asks, annoyed.

The Outsider huffs, a disturbingly human sound. “All this time, and you haven’t understood it, have you? I can see that all that _fascinating_ change you’ve gone through must have been a lot to cope with, but by now you should have seen it.”

Daud blinks, trying to understand past the numb, icy feeling still flooding his veins, trying to arrange his sluggish thoughts, but he really had his mind elsewhere right before, and this is nothing he was prepared for.

Apparently, the Outsider registers Daud’s confusion and sighs, staring up towards the surface, to the shadow of a whale gliding past in the distance.

“Daud, Daud, Daud… Do I really have to explain? I know what you are thinking right now, what you thought when the cold, dark depth enveloped your body and crushed your lungs and froze your brain. I know what made you give away a weapon that could have saved you to the little Empress, or to take the burden of fighting Delilah’s followers alone.”

The Outsider shoots him something like a shrewd glance from the corner of his obsidian eyes, noticing the way Daud flinches at the mention of Delilah’s name. Then he continues.

“You still consider Corvo to be the embodiment of all your mistakes, and that only by sacrificing your life in this situation can you wash your conscience clean from all the blood you’ve spilled. You think that _this_ is _justice_. That this, you dying so your soulmate can live, is the final judgment you deserve. But let me tell you, Daud… You are wrong.”

With that, the Outsider blinks into existence right in front of Daud’s face, staring into his very soul with eyes as dark as eternity.

The strangely annoyed pout on his lips kind of ruins the image.

“Corvo, the constant surprise that he is, gave you everything, his friendship, his trust, his forgiveness, his _love_ even. You are throwing everything away, Daud. I will not allow this to happen,” the deity whispers an inch away from Daud’s face, then he withdraws.

“Tell me… What do you think is the reason people become soulmates? How does destiny pick the pairs, etching words into their skin to bind them?”

Daud frowns, his mother’s unimpressed words coming to his mind, that soulmate marks are arbitrary. Not needed to find his way in life. After having met Corvo and slowly falling in love with him, Daud has made up his mind about that, but he still doesn’t know the answer to the question why in the Void fate had chosen Corvo, of all people, to be Daud’s soulmate. As thankful as he was about their newfound intimacy, he had always considered their bond itself an absurd joke.

“I assumed there either was no reason, or someone with a twisted sense of humor was making the decisions. You, probably,” Daud answers eventually.

The Outsider shakes his head, elegantly folding his hands over his chest again, that dramatic gesture that looks so strangely inhuman on him.

“And again, you are wrong. I do not make the decisions, but there is always a reason behind the marks. A reason for two people to be soulmates, even if they never find each other, or part ways at some point. It is not always understandable for the human mind, doesn’t always seem to make sense, but there is always a reason. Your mother, for example… If she had never even tried to form a partnership with your father, however short it might have been, there would be no _you_. Which would be a shame, don’t you think? And in your particular case, your bond with Corvo does have a very interesting reason, and I will not allow something this fascinating to go to waste.”

The Outsider turns to face him fully. “Daud, you are the only person who never lied to Corvo, not even once. You are the one person he can fully trust after a lifetime of getting betrayed. He needs you _alive_ , not dead. He needs you by his side to show him that there is something in the world that will never turn against him. He needs you as his partner. And you, my dear Daud… After a life of bloodshed and crimes, you long for salvation, and who else could give you more forgiveness than the person you hurt most? If Corvo embraces you as soulmate, if he truly forgives you despite what you’ve done, you can find the peace of mind you’re pining for so badly, and forgive yourself. You are made for each other, like two sides of a coin.”

The Outsider withdraws a little, watching Daud’s face. While the Outsider was speaking, Daud’s chest felt like it was slowly being crushed by a massive weight until a band wrought tightly around his heart had been shattered, allowing the blood to flow back into his heart, and it hurts, it hurts so badly he doesn’t know what to do with himself despite staring at the deity, into those eternal eyes, and slowly coming to the realization that every single word he just heard is the absolute truth.

Daud _understands_ , and the sudden knowledge is threatening to choke him.

He and Corvo belong together, bound by fate since the day they were born, and everything had led up to them embracing their bond.

The Outsider seems to be able to read his thoughts, because one corner of his mouth slowly twists into a smug little grin. Daud focuses on fighting for composure.

“What do you want me to do now? I’m as good as dead,” he grinds out eventually, feeling tears sting behind his eyelids and determined not to let it show, at any cost.

The Outsider smiles that damned knowing smile and leans forward a little.

“I give you one more chance. A chance to escape this cold, wet death. I don’t do this because of any nostalgic reasons, only because I do not want this interesting display to be over. Two of my marked ones sharing a soulmate bond, when a meeting of two marks usually ends up being one in the end.”

Daud blinks, unbelieving, a sudden surge of hope flaring up in his chest. “You’re saving my life?”

There is a tiny hint of something soft hidden behind the arrogant smirk, but Daud is not entirely sure about that. “I enjoy watching you two way too much to allow you to die now, Daud.”

Daud doesn’t know what to say to that, whether he should fall into praises of thankfulness or not, but then the deity’s words register.

“Wait… Do you spy on us fucking too?”

Daud is very much aware that the Outsider watches everything, withdrawn in his own world with his own dark thoughts, and that technically, the Outsider could watch him in whatever situation he desires. Over the decades Daud had stopped caring about it.

Still, this knowledge doesn’t help the unpleasant shudder running down his spine at the way the Outsider grins, wide and with way too many sharp teeth, one eyebrow raised, something entirely too suggestive flickering in his eyes.

He doesn’t deny it, he doesn’t confirm it, but he smirks as if he just won the lottery, and Daud can’t help the annoyed growl escaping his throat, because he is really in no position to argue.

“Bastard.”

“Promise that you’ll avoid getting yourself in those overly dramatic situations. And tell Corvo what you feel for him, it’s high time, don’t you think?”

With a part deep inside him still angry and another part shuddering helplessly with a thankfulness he’s never felt for the deity before, Daud nods, and he means it.

The Outsider, a satisfied smile on his face, snaps his fingers and time moves on, and reality moves back into place.

The ice cold water closes around Daud once more, pain and darkness and pressure, but the vines let go of him, curling into the depth. Jerking back to life, Daud flails with his arms for a moment, back in his aching body way too suddenly, but then the thought of Corvo floats into his mind and he starts swimming, fighting his way to the surface with all the strength he has left.

* * *

 

Corvo prowls along the steep cliffs the Tower of Dunwall is mounted on, eyes on the dark, churning waters. Every little wave makes him jerk, makes him believe it’s Daud hitting the surface, and every time he gets disappointed the dark emptiness in his chest swells, growing big and aching until his entire being feels like it’s about to be consumed by pain.

It can’t be, it just can’t.

Corvo whistles and Thomas shows up on a rocky outcrop a few paces away, shaking his head. He and the Whalers help Corvo observe the coast and cliffs around the Tower for any sign of life as well as the coast further downstream the river in case Daud gets flooded there.

The thought of Daud’s dead body being washed ashore is tearing Corvo’s heart into pieces, and so he tries as hard as he can to focus on his own muscles, screaming with exhaustion, fighting to keep going, looking for signs of his soulmate, anything just to keep the thought from settling in.

It becomes harder every second, and a part of Corvo just wants to lie down and cry until there’s no more tears in him.

He can’t stand this torment a second time.

The mental image of Daud, finally managing to beat back Breanna, suddenly getting wrapped into the monstrous vine and pulled over the edge of the cliff below the gazebo has burned itself into Corvo’s mind so deeply his vision blurs if he doesn’t pay attention, and concentrating despite the growing despair in his chest is getting more and more difficult.

“Corvo, I’m afraid… We’ve been looking everywhere around the Tower, and if he was still alive we would have found him by now. I think he is…” Misha’s voice next to him says gently, placing a hand on Corvo’s shoulder, but Corvo just growls, wishing he could scream, and turns away.

She’s right, and he hates her for it.

“I’m so sorry, Corvo,” Thomas whispers behind him, sounding like he’s choked with tears as well, but Corvo just wills them all to shut up, to look harder, because he refuses to give up.

He stares out over the Wrenhaven, the cold wind making his eyes water, and allows tears to flow down his cheeks. Daud had saved Emily and probably also Corvo, and his men, and as much as everything inside Corvo screams with pain and protest the horrible realization that Daud is dead settles itself in his chest without him able to do anything about it.

He turns away, not able to stand anyone near his side.

Something red flashes among the gray waves.

Corvo spins around so quickly he almost slips on the rocks, and searches the spot again. He can’t believe his eyes, a choked sob escaping his chest, when he spots Daud dragging himself up a rocky slope on shaking arms.

Within a second Corvo is by his side, helping him out of the water. Daud’s clothes are in rags and he is bleeding from a dozen cuts, pale and throwing up an impossible amount of water, cold and shivering like a leaf, but he is alive, and Corvo could weep for joy. He pulls Daud up on the shore and gently turns him on his back when he has stopped coughing. The sharp sounds of warping air around him signal the arrival of some Whalers, and in the distance he can hear excited shouts being called out to each other, but Corvo doesn’t pay them any attention nor does he hear their relieved chattering.

He cradles Daud in his arms, wishing he could talk but needing his hands to hold Daud, and settles for clutching his shivering body as tightly against him as he can, determined to never let his soulmate go again. Corvo gently rests Daud’s head against his chest, and smoothes his dripping hair away from his forehead before he presses his lips against the cold, wet skin, still shaking with incredulous joy that he is alive.

“Corvo, careful! Let him breathe,” Thomas says gently, voice a bit unsteady by his own happiness, placing a hand on Daud’s shoulder as he scans him for any injuries more serious than the cuts. “I think he is alright, given the circumstances. Still, we need to take him to Marco to tend to his wounds.”

“Thomas, for fuck’s sake, give them a minute,” Corvo can hear Misha’s amused murmur through the daze that floods his senses, and Thomas retreats a step.

Daud coughs and struggles to take a deep breath, which obviously still costs him a lot of effort. His eyes flicker open, and he stares up at Corvo who still holds him in his arms.

“Is Emily alright?” Daud rasps with a horribly strained voice, but Corvo still feels tears sting behind his eyelids upon hearing it, because for a while he thought he’d heard it for the last time when Daud left.

He nods, a touched smile on his face that turns wider when Daud manages a weak grin. “Good.”

“One of the Pynes attacked her, and she shot him with the wristbow you gave her,” Pickford chimes in quietly, standing in the group of Whalers gathering around Corvo and Daud, all of them looking like a flock of lost children reunited with their father.

Daud actually laughs when he hears about Emily’s brave self defense, a rough, hoarse chuckle escaping his chest, and Corvo feels tears running down his cheeks without being able to do anything about it. “That’s my little girl.”

Corvo rearranges Daud’s exhausted form in his firm embrace a little so he can gesture, determined to keep him in his arms.

_You saved her, again. You saved me and all the others, and almost got yourself killed because of that._

Daud’s lips curl into a tired smile, and when he stares up at Corvo the harshness in his eyes melts away, giving way for something soft and relenting, as if he’s breathing out.

“I can’t leave you alone, can I? You’ll only get yourself hurt without me, big oaf,” he mumbles quietly, reaching up to touch Corvo’s cheek with trembling hands. “I love you, Corvo.”

There is not a single moment Corvo can remember that he’s pined for his lost voice more than now, and not a single moment in which it had been clearer to him that he doesn’t need to answer, because he is understood without words.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before his gaze locks with Daud’s again, mirroring his slightly overwhelmed, deliriously happy smile. He lowers his head and gently presses his lips against Daud’s, and the kiss they share feels like their very first one to him, because he knows it is not the last.

* * *

 

“I spend too much time in the infirmary for my taste,” Daud complains as Marco checks the stitches on a cut on his arm. He’s lying in his bed with Marco to one side and Emily to the other, offering him encouraging words whenever he flinches. It is far from the worst cut Daud has ever suffered, but Emily still insists on making sure he knows it’s nothing to be afraid of, and Daud is so damn touched that he wouldn’t send her away for the world.

_Maybe you should retire, then_ , Corvo signs from the foot of the bed after having placed a tray with tea mixed with strengthening elixir on a side table. _The world is not kind to old men._

“Fuck you, Corvo,” Daud answers politely, but the gentle smile flickering over his lips takes any sting from his words. Corvo chuckles and strides over to lean in for a kiss.

“Are you proud of me, Daud?” Emily wants to know. “I held the wristbow just like you showed me.”

“Very proud. I couldn’t have done it better myself,” Daud comes back and ruffles her black hair with his free hand, before wincing a little at the way Marco pulls at the stitches.

“When do I get my own wristbow?”

“Let’s talk about that a little later, alright? I wouldn’t want Callista to strangle me when she finds you sleepdarting every politician that dares to oppose you. Don’t laugh. Admit that you thought about it,” Daud growls and pokes Emily’s ribs, causing her to giggle. “It’s time for your afternoon lessons, isn’t it?”

Emily sighs, but relents. “I know. I’ll visit you later and bring you some cake.”

She leans in and presses a kiss on Daud’s forehead before Corvo plucks her from Daud’s side. Daud returns the little wave Emily offers him as Corvo carries her off to her lessons. As soon as she is gone Daud turns to Marco and Thomas, who also waits by the bed. Daud had slept a lot after almost drowning, and only rumors about the aftermath of the witches’ last assault had reached his ears so far.

“What about the Pynes?”

“Lord Gilderoy Pyne, the older one, got ripped into half by one of the vines. His son was shot unconscious by Emily upon attacking her in a fit of madness, but he was already badly injured. He did not recover from that and died in his sickbed yesterday, Master,” Thomas reports.

Daud hums thoughtfully, not finding it in himself to quench that feeling of grim satisfaction when he hears about their death, but still glad that the business had settled itself.

 “About the murders their committed?”

“The evidence you collected is being brought forth now, and all their crimes are being unearthed. Of course there is nobody to put in prison any more, but the Pyne fortune is being claimed by the throne, and I’m sure the Empress will put it to good use. Compensation for the servants’ families, as a start.”

“The witches are being kept in Coldridge, I assume?”

“Yes, exactly. There might be a few who managed to escape, but I think they will scatter soon, leaderless as they are,” Thomas says. He steps forward, taking his mask off. “Master Daud, it’s… It’s good to have you back. I’m saying this also in the name of the others, we… We are so glad, all of us. But…”

“But?” Daud asks, lifting his eyebrows.

“Don’t get yourself this deeply into shit again if you can manage, alright? At least try. You’re being held together only by thread and old ink,” Marco answers in Thomas’s stead, and Thomas flinches. Daud only answers that with a heartfelt laugh, trying and failing to hide how deeply touched he is.

“I’ll try, I promise. You’ll be stuck with me for a little longer,” Daud says, and when Corvo comes back into his bedroom and returns his gaze, he adds: “I have all the more reason to be a bit more careful, now.”

Thomas gives Marco a nudge, and the Whaler packs his medicine bag. They shoot Daud another thankful look before Marco follows Thomas out of the window, leaving Corvo and Daud alone.

“Emily is off to her lesson?” Daud wants to know, patting the spot next to him. Corvo shrugs out of his coat and boots and slips under the blanket next to Daud, wrapping him in his arms while carefully minding the stitches. He nods.

“Good.”

Daud leans into Corvo’s warm, firm embrace, and they spend a long moment just lying there without feeling the necessity to fill the comfortable silence with any words or gestures. It’s so utterly comforting Daud can hardly wrap his mind around it, a gentle warmth he hasn’t felt since the days he spent by his mother’s side.

He tucks his head under Corvo’s prickly chin, inhaling his warm, earthy scent and listening to his heartbeat.

“I still can’t believe the Outsider actually helped me,” Daud murmurs quietly. He told Corvo about this a while ago, when they finally had a quiet moment together without an excited Emily, some political person or a Whaler dropping in to talk to Daud about the events. Daud can feel Corvo nod, and hands move up in front of him, forming words.

_He does things beyond every reason, sometimes. But I’m very glad he did._

Daud feels himself smile. “Me too.”

_I love you._

“… Soft-hearted oaf.”

That earns him a gentle nudge against his ribcage, not enough to hurt, just enough to tease him, because Corvo knows the answer. Daud has told him more often than he could count over the last days.

Corvo’s hands move again, more hesitant this time, as if he has trouble voicing his thoughts.

_Speaking of the Outsider… I have something I wanted to show you. I’ve wanted to do so for a long time, but I never felt the moment was right. But now it is, I think._

Daud turns his head a little, gazing up at Corvo’s beautiful face. “What is it?”

Instead of answering, Corvo shifts his grip so Daud rests against his pillows again, and leans over the bed to a side table where he placed his coat. Corvo reaches into a coat pocked, retrieving a small object, cradling it gently in his hands as if it was something fragile, something that needs care and warmth.

When Corvo turns around to Daud with a grave, solemn expression on his face to show him what he is holding, Daud stares at it in utter astonishment.

Held together with wires and gear wheels, glowing softly when it pulses, Corvo holds a human heart in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is not the end, as you might have noticed! There will be a short epilogue soon, to tie up all the lose ends I left and to give a little outlook as to how their relationship develops on the long run. 
> 
> However, I do hope you enjoyed this finale as much as I did writing it. See you in the epilogue!


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

“Are you sure I can do this?”

Corvo nods, a solemn expression on his face, and gives Daud’s shoulder a gentle squeeze to reassure him. Daud takes a deep breath and steps forward.

They have talked about this very thoroughly, but Daud still feels more than anxious about it. He vaguely remembers a flare of pain mixed with a strange sensation of thankfulness when Corvo had shown him the object the Outsider gave him, the human heart with Jessamine’s spirit embedded inside a hull of flesh and gearwheels. Daud would hardly consider the heart and voice of Corvo’s lost love a _gift_ , more another example of the deity’s questionable sense of humor, but he also understands how comforting it must have been for Corvo to hear Jessamine’s voice every now and then, being able to communicate with a splinter of her spirit trapped in the small object.

Daud can see the heart, even though he knows most people can’t, but he can only hear her if he touches the heart himself.

What Corvo had half offered, half asked Daud to do still feels like a violation to him, something that should hurt, but a part of Daud also agrees with it, feeling that he has to do this for both of them to find peace.

The soft evening sunshine flickers over the flawless marble with the ivy branches winding around the pillars of the gazebo. Daud and Corvo stand in front of the small, golden headstone, right where Jessamine died and Daud almost drowned. The garden is silent behind them, empty but for the distant cries of seagulls and the soft sound of the wind. Daud is garbed in his old whaler coat he used to wear in his former life, the blood red leather with the short sleeves, black gloves and all, his sword laced to his belt.

Daud turns to his soulmate one more time to exchange a look with him, both feeling the gravity of what they are about to do. Corvo gently offers him the heart, and Daud carefully takes it in his hands.

The heart hums as the clockwork clatters to life, glows from inside, warm and pulsating. Daud can feel the heart floating, and he lets go of it to watch it suspended in mid air. It is hovering above Jessamine’s headstone, and then it glows even brighter.

A figure appears, partly translucent and glowing from inside with a gentle golden shine. A woman, elegant and solemn, with neatly pinned-up jet-black hair, her features looking so much like Emily’s.

Daud feels a surge of pain, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of Jessamine’s spirit, but his breathing evens when he feels Corvo’s fingers entwining with his own. He forces himself to straighten his back and returns her gaze.

Jessamine’s spirit stares at the pair of them with eyes as blue as the Void from half a world away, and then she speaks, her voice sounding like it’s coming from all directions at once, quiet and shattered.

_Why have you brought me here? Am I supposed to forgive this man for what he did?_

Daud struggles for words, his mind feeling empty, but Corvo’s hand holding his own reassures him once more. Daud can see Corvo nod from the corner of his eye, and Daud drops down on his knees in front of Jessamine, head bowed.

“I know there are no words that would suffice to apologize for what I did,” Daud says quietly. “But I promise that I’ll spend each moment of the rest of my life making sure no harm comes to Corvo and Emily, ever again. No matter what it takes. You have my word.”

Jessamine’s eyes linger on Daud for a moment as if she muses about his words, and then her gaze wanders off to Corvo. Daud can see Corvo’s expression and posture change from the corner of his eye, and he knows Corvo talks to her though his mind alone. He knows Jessamine can hear Corvo’s thoughts without the necessity to sign or speak, he knows she and Corvo have already discussed this, if a living human talking to the last shard of a fading spirit through a magical device can be called _discussing_. Corvo had told Daud about the anchor that binds Jessamine in this world like an invisible cage, the last thread keeping her from finally resting in peace as long as Corvo’s own mind is not entirely settled, as long her one and only love is still bleeding from the scars of his past.

Corvo is determined that he found a way to sever that last thread so Jessamine can finally leave this shadow state and rest. He thinks he found a way to free her, and Daud, as much as confronting Jessamine might tear open old wounds, is more than willing to do anything in his power to help.

Daud can’t hear what Corvo and Jessamine’s spirit discuss without words, but something Corvo said seemed to have touched something in her. She stares down at Daud’s kneeling form again, and then, with him barely believing what he sees, her lips curl into a small smile, softening the harsh, accusing glare of her eyes.

_I can feel how sorry you are, and I can feel how much you care about my daughter, and Corvo. Your soulmate. I can feel how much they care for you… You almost gave your life twice to keep them safe. Do you pledge fealty to them, to me, until the end of your days?_

Daud struggles to speak, his voice hoarse, but firm.

“I will. I swear.”

And with that, Daud bows his head once more and draws his sword, holding it in his outstretched hands.

“My blade will draw no more blood, except to prevent Emily and Corvo from harm. It belongs to them, as does my life.”

He places the sword on the marble floor in front of Jessamine’s headstone, waiting for her judgment. She takes a moment, her eyes boring down on him, as if assessing her next words, and then her lips curl into a small, sad smile.

_I forgive you, then._

Trembling helplessly, Daud looks up to see the honesty in her face, her forgiveness, the knowledge that Corvo is in good hands. Then Jessamine’s eyes find Corvo’s, brimming with sad affection. She reaches out, and Corvo takes her slender, translucent hand in his. The air between them ripples with emotions, the knowledge that a part of Corvo’s heart will always beat for Jessamine and her alone, but also the agreement that he can move on now, that he will be happy, united with his soulmate, hearts and minds at peace.

And with that, Daud can feel them say farewell to each other, their last parting words hanging in the air. Jessamine gently smiles at both of them, and Daud feels Corvo’s shaking hand on his shoulder when her heart and her spirit dissolve, slowly and beautifully, like a flower picked apart by a gently breeze.

Jessamine fades away, finally, to rest.

Daud squeezes his eyes shut and bows his head again, past caring when he feels tears running down his cheeks, making soft sounds when they hit the marble floor. Corvo gives him a moment, waiting, and after a while gently tugs on his shoulder. Daud manages to get up only to find himself pulled into a firm embrace.

They spend a long time just standing in the gazebo, staring out over the Wrenhaven, and finally, after more than two years, Daud feels his own mind coming to rest as he forgives himself.

* * *

 

**Two years later**

“ _More_ ,” Daud gasps, out of breath, arching his back with a moan. His trembling hand is holding Corvo’s head in place, his fingers digging into his hair. Corvo smiles against his soulmate’s flushed skin, pressing a quick kiss against the inside of Daud’s thigh before returning his attention to Daud’s erection. Corvo’s lips curl around his tip, hot and soft and sucking gently, and Daud cries out again, mingled with intelligible curses.

The pale moonlight shines in through the windows, and the fire in Daud’s hearth has died down long ago, but their body heat chases away the chill. Daud is sweating, gasping for air, as Corvo lets his erection graze against the soft inside of his cheek while firmly caressing the shaft with his free hand. Corvo feels like he could do this for ages, just teasing those hoarse, desperate sounds out of Daud, but he won’t.

Corvo has something special planned for tonight, and he is determined to pull it through.

Daud has to be asleep for it, though, oblivious to anything.

They are far away from sleeping yet.

Corvo stops his caresses when Daud reaches out to brush the hair from his forehead, causing him to look up. The ruined, wanting expression on Daud’s face is just delicious, and Corvo grins proudly. Daud tugs at his shoulders to usher him back in his arms, and Corvo complies, lying flush on top of him, and every inch of Corvo’s skin feels like it’s in touch with Daud. They kiss, hands roaming across the other’s back, and Daud bites down into the soft skin of Corvo’s neck, smirking when Corvo cries out before gently kissing the bruises he left.

Corvo growls and rolls down from Daud, placing himself next to him. Corvo grabs Daud’s wrists and pushes his hands between his legs, urging him on. Daud nips at Corvo’s lip before kissing him, smothering his moan. He trembles with anticipation. They fall into that delirious rhythm they have developed over the years, as easily as two skilled duelists fighting, well familiar with the other’s needs and preferences. Over time, during countless nights and days, Corvo has learned the shapes of Daud’s body by heart, where to avoid touching him unless he wants to be rewarded with a low snarl and fierce bites, where to caress him to tease helpless moans from his throat, what Daud can do to him to make him shudder apart.

This time, though, as if he has picked up on Corvo’s excitement about what he’ll do later, Daud does something unexpected, catching Corvo off guard.

“I want you on top,” Daud growls against Corvo’s lips. At first thinking of a position they enjoy quite often, Corvo smiles and complies by pressing Daud on his back and straddling his waist, ready to let him enter, but Daud pushes Corvo back on his side, kissing his confused frown.

“No, I meant… Inside me.”

Now, something insecure crosses Corvo’s features, and Daud hurries to kiss him, his lips touching his skin when he rumbles: “Please. I need you.”

It is something they’ve never done before, completely satisfied with the beautiful familiarity their partnership developed over time.

For just a moment, Corvo is uncertain if he wants this, if he can make it feel as good for Daud as Daud does for him. Daud breathes another husky “Please…” against his lips, and a rush of lust drowns out his thoughts, and he complies.

In a way, it is fitting with what Corvo has planned for later, so he is willing to give it a try.

He lies by Daud’s side and accepts the small bottle of oil they keep in his nightstand. He slicks his fingers, aware of the gentle, heated gaze resting on him as he does so. Corvo gently presses his hand between Daud’s thighs, inching his way forward. He has felt Daud teasing him open often enough to know what to do, what feels good and what doesn’t, but when he reaches Daud’s entrance after massaging his perineum for a moment, Corvo still freezes, casting a slightly hesitant glance to his partner.

Daud just smiles and reaches down to guide his hand. His other arm loops around Corvo to hold him close, tilt his head so they can kiss. His lips move to Corvo’s ear and he rumbles quiet advice, telling him what to do, and hearing Daud groan low in his throat when Corvo gently runs his fingers along the rim he bites his lip helplessly. With Daud’s assistance, Corvo carefully prepares him, and when he presses in deeper he is shocked by how warm he feels inside. Daud shows him how to curl his fingers, tells him what to feel for, and when Corvo nudges his fingertips against that spot Daud’s deep, husky groan makes him shiver with pleasure, chasing goose bumps down his spine. Corvo takes his time, eager to start but still determined to be just as patient and caring as Daud always is with him. He eases him open until he is sure that he is ready, and then Daud rolls on his back, pupils black with desire as he locks eyes with Corvo.

Corvo complies, hovering over Daud, and stares down at his soulmate. Daud is panting, muscles glistening, the tattoos a harsh contrast against moonlit skin, his hair a mess, and he’s the most beautiful thing Corvo knows.

Corvo asks him for permission with his eyes one more time and only finds gentle, hungry consent, and then Corvo prowls up Daud’s body to position himself between his legs. Strong hands clamp down on his hips to guide him if he wishes, swiping blissfully over Corvo’s cheeks. Daud growls when he squeezes, almost hard enough to bruise, making Corvo grin in response. Corvo can tell by the way Daud breathes alone that he’s getting impatient and uses the opportunity to tease him, bends over his head so Daud can swipe his tongue over his nipples, biting down and eliciting a ragged groan and a smirk from Corvo. Daud curses under his breath, hips jerking up eagerly, and Corvo finally eases into him.

Daud feels so good Corvo almost comes after barely an inch in. His partner is shockingly hot inside and way tighter than he’d expected, something Corvo hasn’t felt in years, and he doesn’t want to _compare_ anything, but Daud is just…

Corvo grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, arms trembling as he struggles desperately to hold back. Daud’s amused chuckle doesn’t make it any easier, but then Corvo can feel fingers pinching the skin on the inside of his arm. The short, sharp pain is something different to focus on and Corvo concentrates on that, not on the way Daud clenches around him. It helps, surprisingly.

“Just breathe,” Daud whispers, and Corvo takes a deep breath, opening his eyes to glance down at his soulmate. Daud’s expression is a knowing smirk mixed with something soft and affectionate, and he raises one eyebrow. “Good, isn’t it.”

Corvo just nods, and Daud snarls, pulling his head down to kiss him. “Slowly. Take your time.”

Corvo does as he is told and carefully slides into Daud’s heat, taking time to adapt to the almost forgotten sensation as well as giving Daud time to take him in. Daud curses between clenched teeth a few times, but that’s nothing unusual, and Corvo can tell despite his occasional twitches and gasps that he wants this, _needs_ this, the feeling of being filled that Corvo learned to enjoy so much. When they are joined completely, Corvo tentatively starts moving, starting with slow, shallow thrusts to test the waters, and he groans helplessly at how wonderful it feels, making Daud chuckle once more. His soulmate urges him on, obviously aroused by Corvo’s own pleasure, hips jerking up to meet his. Though lying on bottom, Daud isn’t much different from how he usually is, and it gives Corvo a feeling of familiarity that makes adapting to this new position so much easier. Daud is all choked curses and bites and fingernails when he takes Corvo, predatory and claiming, but also very gentle in his own way, thankfulness and affection brimming in his every move and touch. Now, he accepts Corvo’s rhythm, urges him on with hands and flexing muscles and gasped words, and it’s so deliriously wonderful to lose himself in him that Corvo finds his self control slipping. He speeds up, unable to hold back, and when he glances down to see his erection pressing into his soulmate Corvo almost pushes himself over the edge way too soon, but Daud reacts before he can do so. He shifts his hips, causing Corvo to lose his rhythm momentarily, giving him a second to catch his breath. Daud pulls Corvo’s head down and slips his tongue into his mouth, kisses him deeply, and Corvo can feel his groan vibrate against his lips. Before Corvo can keep moving, Daud hooks one of his legs further up around Corvo’s torso and Corvo understands, slipping his arm around Daud’s thigh to keep him poised. Daud rolls his hips, assisting Corvo in keeping up the rhythm, and it makes it so much easier for Corvo to control his lust. Each time he feels his own completion approaching, Daud angles his hips or counters his thrusts in a way that allows Corvo to catch his breath, prolonging their play to a point that feels almost painfully good. Corvo is incoherent with lust droning in his ears, too focused on keeping up that delicious rhythm, and he vaguely notices Daud reaching between them to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving Corvo’s face. Corvo mirrors Daud’s desperate groans and cut off breathing, hair sticking to the sweat on his brow. Daud lays back, one hand grasping Corvo’s hips so hard that he leaves bruises.

“Corvo…” he gasps, pupils blown when he stares up at him, pleading, begging him to finish it. He tilts his head back and groans, Corvo’s name a breathless cry on his lips, and Corvo complies, unable to hold back now, driving his final thrusts hard as he buries himself in his soulmate. A moment later Corvo comes, every muscle in his body tensing up, tumbling helplessly over the edge, and faintly registers Daud groaning his name as he spills all over his chest and stomach.

Corvo’s ears ring from the intensity of his orgasm, and he can still feel himself pulse lazily inside Daud who clenches around him in return. Daud is a gasping wreck, hands fisted in the sheets. For a long moment all they can do is breathe until Corvo manages to lift his head. He makes a soft, exhausted sound, causing Daud to open his eyes. He chuckles hoarsely, voice ruined, and makes a gesture with one hand to lure Corvo in his arms. Corvo complies and carefully pulls out, well familiar with the irritating sensation of oversensitized nerves. His mouth goes dry for a moment when he sees a dribble of his own semen running down between Daud’s cheeks, strangely mesmerizing to watch. Daud growls contently and pulls on Corvo’s shoulder, and Corvo scoots forward into his embrace.

They lie curled into each other, drenched in sweat, the sheets a crumpled mess under their heated bodies. Their inhales seem loud in the sudden silence. Corvo is suddenly aware of the chilly night air drifting in through the window, making the room feel cold now that the tension bleeds from Corvo’s muscles, leaving him shivering. He turns his head and lets out a soft chuckle, still dizzy from the intensity of his peak. Daud returns his smile and rolls over to wrap Corvo in strong arms, his lips finding Corvo’s.

“Did you like that?” he purrs against his mouth.

Corvo nods enthusiastically. _I do prefer you being on top, though_ , he signs. _You are too good at this_. _Why did you want to try this, so suddenly?_

Daud responds with a suggestive grin and a content growl, leaning forward to nip at Corvo’s lips with his teeth.

“I don’t know. I just felt like it. Wanted you inside me.”

Corvo grins and catches Daud’s mouth with his, asking himself if Daud could feel the importance of what Corvo wants to do later, in the same way his soulmate often seems to read his very thoughts without the necessity to talk.

Corvo feels a shudder when the chilly air cools the smudge of semen on his belly. He gets up and quickly pads over to the bathroom to return with a wet cloth. He cleans first Daud and then himself, smiling at the meaningful gaze Daud shoots him as if he remembers their first time when he did this for Corvo. The memory is still so very fresh to Corvo despite the years that have passed. When they are both clean again, Corvo returns into Daud’s waiting arms. They curl into each other, and a gentle green glow from Daud’s left hand lets the blanket float up from where they tossed it to the floor to cover both of them.

“I love you, Corvo,” Daud growls and presses a kiss against Corvo’s nose, and Corvo knows his heart will never stop beating like a bird in a cage whenever he hears Daud’s deep, raspy voice say those words.

Corvo keeps holding Daud, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other one slowly stroking up and down his side. Daud tucks his head in the curve of Corvo’s clavicle, the pad of one of his feet rubbing against Corvo’s shin. Corvo waits, listening to the rhythm of Daud’s breathing. After a while it slows down, and Corvo inwardly counts to hundred.

He makes sure once more that Daud is fast asleep by blowing softly against his nose, something he is particularly ticklish about. Daud crinkles his nose and huffs, but he doesn’t wake up, and then his features soften again as he continues sleeping. Satisfied, Corvo carefully removes himself from Daud’s firm embrace and quietly slides off the bed. He finds his undergarments and slips them on. Before he turns away from the bed, he makes sure Daud is covered with the blanket. Corvo pads over the moonlit stone tiles of the bedroom over to the door and opens it a fraction.

Corvo presses a finger to his lips when Emily squeezes through the gap, and she nods, throwing him a smile. He ushers her in and together they sneak back to the bed.

Sitting by Daud’s sleeping form, Corvo carefully lifts a corner of the blanket and pulls Daud’s right arm free. He gently stretches it out until it lies flat, the scarred skin with the black tattoos illuminated by a patch of moonlight.

Emily joins Corvo on the bed, moving swiftly and carefully, her slender form barely causing the mattress to move. She kneels besides Daud and Corvo and takes out a notepad and a pencil.

 _Like we discussed. All angles_ , Corvo signs, and Emily nods.

She starts drawing.

After a while, she signals Corvo that she is done with the palm of Daud’s hand, and Corvo gently grabs his soulmate’s wrist to turn it around, the back of his hand facing upwards. Emily keeps drawing, and after a while Corvo turns Daud’s hand once more so she can take a closer look at the sides where the tattoos wrap around his wrist like a fingerless glove.

When Emily is almost done, Daud makes a sudden groaning noise and stirs, pulling his hand away. Alarmed, Emily shifts her position like a spy about to get caught, ready to vault herself from the bed to hide, but Corvo signals her to stay.

He bends over his soulmate and presses little kisses against his brow, making a soft sound to hush him. A series of expressions flickers over Daud’s sleeping features and Corvo hurries to embrace him, gently smothering his movements and kissing his eyelids. After a moment Daud’s face relaxes, making him look oddly peaceful without his usual stern scowl, and he continues sleeping.

When Corvo lets go of Daud again to signal Emily that she can proceed, she has a strange expression on her face, a deeply touched smile mixed with an amused little smirk, one eyebrow quirked up like her mother used to do when she was thinking Corvo had done something silly, but too affectionate to chide him for it. Emily briefly shakes her head and continues drawing.

When she is done, Corvo brings her to the door, thanking her. Before she leaves he presses his lips to her forehead and Emily touches his cheek with a gentle, knowing smile on her face, then she disappears with the notepad.

Corvo joins his soulmate under the blanket, holding his right hand tightly in his, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over the blank spot on the back.

The next morning, Corvo finds the drawings in an envelope on his desk.

* * *

 

Daud stands in the gazebo, bathed in the evening sunshine. A warm wind blows from the Tower garden and brings the scent of late flowers and cut grass. The light tints the world the color of amber and honey, and the evening mist hides most of Dunwall’s silhouette on the other side of the Wrenhaven.

Daud had been asked by an anonymous letter to come to the gazebo, this evening. Daud could spot Corvo’s handwriting among a million others and it still makes him smirk when he imagines his soulmate writing the message as if he was composing a secret loveletter. He still wonders about the unusual secretiveness of his soulmate. Not that it irritates him anymore. Corvo has always been and will always be a mystery of some kind, and Daud has learned to tolerate that one exception, that one mystery he doesn’t hate.

After a few moments, Corvo shows up behind Daud as expected, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know that it is him. Daud stays where he is, closing his eyes with a little sigh escaping his chest when Corvo embraces him from behind, pressing a kiss against his neck.

“How’s Emily?”

Corvo’s soft rumble lets him know Emily is fine. Daud knows she’s struggling with all her political duties weighing heavily on her now that she is no longer a child, and Daud enjoys watching her train with Corvo, who together with Daud makes sure she has hobbies to blow off some steam, and she clearly inherited the talent for combat from her father. Emily sometimes reminds Daud of Billie, in a way, but with Emily, he’s sworn himself to do it all different, steer her unpolished talents in the right direction, using it as a way to balance her mind instead of fuelling aggressions. It gives him the feeling he’s making up for something, and Emily enjoys the time they spend shooting wristbow and practicing chokeholds. After their sessions, Daud sometimes sits together with Emily and talks, tells her about his travels and gives her advice as well as he can on questions she asks him, and sometimes Emily slips and she calls him “Dad” instead of “Daud”. It’s just one letter, but every time it happens something raw and bleeding inside Daud gets soothed, healing slowly.

Corvo cocks his head, as if asking Daud the same question.

Daud grins. “The new recruits are doing well, more or less. Some of them still act like they are afraid of their own weapons rather than of their enemy, but Rulfio and Pickford are going to get them to behave soon.”

Corvo nods, and silence settles between them again. Daud had been given the now deserted Pyne mansion as a second headquarters, much closer to the Tower than their other building claimed for his men. Daud had offered Pickford the opportunity to help with the training of the new spies a while ago, and the young Whaler fits his role more than well.

“It’s our anniversary, isn’t it?” Daud asks after a while, and feels Corvo lift his head from where he’s placed it on his shoulder.

 _We have an anniversary?_ Corvo signs. Daud chuckles and turns a little to face him.

“I believe today is the day I came into the tower. If you want to count that as an anniversary. Or would you rather count the day I first spoke to you?”

 _While I was poisoned and sitting in a cage reeking of river muck?_ Corvo signs, an amused little smirk on his face.

“Sounds romantic, doesn’t it?”

Corvo chuckles, reaching out to brush his thumb across Daud’s lip. _I’d rather count the day you told me that you loved me._

Daud tries to hide his wistful smile behind a lopsided smirk, but fails to do so. “That’s still a while.”

Corvo grins. _Let’s just count today, then._

“If you like. Happy anniversary, bodyguard.”

Daud turns to face him fully and pulls him in for a kiss. Corvo places his hands on Daud’s cheeks while returning the kiss, and only then Daud notices that Corvo is wearing gloves, the same dark, soft leather he usually wears too.

“Why the gloves?” he asks, taking one of Corvo’s hands in his. “Have you finally decided to wear them to hide your mark instead of waving it around with only a strap of wool around it? You can’t possible believe that it actually hides the damn thing.”

That earns Daud a kick against his shin, but there is no spite behind it.

_I wanted to show you something._

Daud lifts his eyebrows, throwing him a questioning glance. Instead of answering, Corvo gently takes Daud’s hands in his and starts peeling the gloves off. He removes first the glove on Daud’s left hand, then on the right, and rolls up the sleeve of his red coat a little, revealing the tangle of tattooed patterns covering his wrist and hand.

Corvo’s fingers roam over the tattoo, like they did a thousand times before, but this time, his firm, warm touch lingers on the back of Daud’s hand, where the blank spot is, and Corvo’s gentle, hazel brown eyes move up to meet his, something in them Daud has never seen before, in all those times.

Corvo lifts Daud’s right hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the back, and then, he peels off his own gloves, first the left, and then the right.

“Corvo…?” Daud asks, his voice suddenly rough. He watches as Corvo discards both gloves, puts them into a coat pocket.

He holds out his right hand, and Daud’s heartbeat violently stutters to a stop.

There is a tattoo covering Corvo’s right hand, like a fingerless glove, an intricate pattern around his wrist and palm. It’s perfectly similar to Daud’s, just fresh and new. Daud can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, but then Corvo flips his hand around and shows him the back of it, and Daud forgets to breathe.

Where Daud has a blank spot on the back of his hand, Corvo has a design, embedded in the delicate black tangles. The drawing of a knife, shape, hilt and criss-cross patterns resembling the one Daud carries.

The tattooed blade on Corvo’s hand is sheer, stainless, bloodless, clean.

Daud can only imagine what his face must have looked like when the realization hits him, what Corvo had done by having the tattoo made, similar to Daud’s, filling the blank spot with something that symbolizes his soulmate, and what it means.

The Knife of Dunwall, but with a clean blade.

Before Daud can choke out any words, Corvo drops down to his knee, a lopsided, touched smile dancing over his beautiful features, and takes Daud’s right hand in his. He looks up at him with deep, dark eyes, fingers tracing the blank spot on Daud’s hand, protective, affectionate.

Possessively.

Questioning.

Daud realizes with a warm rush drowning out his thoughts that this is a proposal, a silent question from Corvo if he wants their bond to be permanent, a promise of life-long love and dedication.

The traditional tattoo, the one his mother had always been so regretful about, until Daud had one made that symbolizes his independence, until he had met his soulmate, learning to dislike the meaning of it. The tattoo shared by both partners like a wedding ring, only that Daud’s is still incomplete.

Corvo is asking him to complete it, filling the blank spot similar to the one he had made without Daud knowing.

“… Yes,” Daud chokes huskily, returning the firm grip as he entangles his hand with Corvo’s. His head swims and he feels his vision blur, despite himself, and Corvo’s incredulous chuckle registers through a haze of unbelieving bliss.

Corvo gets up again and pulls Daud in an embrace, and Daud buries his face in Corvo’s hair, desperately trying to even his breathing. Corvo holds him close, his heartbeat racing against Daud’s chest, and they stand for a long moment trying to get a hold of their emotions, unbelieving, overwhelmed.

Finally, though, the thought settles inside Daud’s chest, and everything feels utterly _right_ , because this was meant to be.

* * *

 

Daud learns that it had been Vladko who made the tattoo on Corvo’s hand, and he is glad to hear that Corvo had the mind to not visit an exterior tattoo artist, but one from within their own ranks. Vladko is experienced, already responsible for a number of tattoos among his Whalers, and even for one on Daud’s back.

That Emily had been involved in this is new to him, but he’s touched beyond reason when he hears that. Corvo shows Daud the drawings she made of his hand while he slept, and that Vladko used as reference to make the tattoo as similar to Daud’s as possible. Daud has to admit she has much talent for a fourteen year old. Not that he didn’t know she was blessed with creativity, obvious from Emily’s drawings decorating the walls in his rooms, but the complicated knotwork of the Pandyssian tattoo is something else entirely, and Daud is oddly thankful for her help, as if Emily’s contribution had made it possible for Corvo and him to share this.

They meet with Vladko a few days later, in Daud’s quarters next to the large window front.

Every single Whaler is there, assembled around a small table with two chairs, and they watch as Vladko prepares the little whale-oil powered tattoo gun with a fresh needle, illuminated by the late afternoon sun floating in through the window front and casting a soft, buttery light over Dunwall’s silhouette sprawling out below them.

Daud sits down in the chair opposite of Vladko, Corvo standing to his side, Emily to the other. Vladko starts, filling in the blank spot on the back of Daud’s right hand with a symbol. Daud can feel Corvo’s warm palm resting on his shoulder, reassuring him, but even without his soulmate’s affectionate touch he’d barely feel the pain of the needle piercing his skin over and over again, because a deep feeling of almost disturbing intensity drowns out anything else as Vladko slowly etches an image on the back of Daud’s hand.

It takes a long while that is filled only with the soft buzzing sound of the tattoo gun. It feels strangely ceremonious and despite the simplicity of the gesture they all feel the grave importance of this, and Daud is oddly touched that everyone of his trusted men and women as well as his kind-of daughter is there to witness, because if he binds Corvo to him he also binds him to what he considers his family.

In the end, there is Corvo’s symbol on the back of Daud’s hand, a crow’s skull where he had an empty spot for most of his life, and it feels like a puzzle piece he’s never known missing slides back into place, completing him, filling him with something he’s always longed for since the day he’s been born.

Daud gets up, shaky with bliss, and Corvo and Daud share the first kiss after they sealed their bond.

Finally, Emily breaks the silence by letting out a shrill whoop of joy, and the Whalers chime in with applause and jests, all of them rushing in to congratulate them. While Daud returns the excited hug of Pickford, he glances over at Emily. She had taken Corvo’s hands in hers, holding his gaze, and she smiles, leaning upward to press a kiss against her father’s forehead, and Daud knows they both have her blessing. After that, she comes to him to embrace him.

“My other father,” Emily murmurs in Daud’s ear, and he hugs her a little longer than necessary until he can trust his voice again.

It is a very noisy, nice celebration they have, nothing fancy, but Daud wouldn’t want that anyway. Every one of Daud’s motley adopted family is there, and that is what counts. They open the bottles of whiskey, fruit juice and wine that Daud and Corvo have prepared and raise their glasses for them many times. There are card games, and laughter when Rinaldo tells stories of the old days of the Whalers, about Daud’s most spectacular escapades and their time in Rudshore. All the while Corvo and Daud sit side by side and listen and laugh with the others, marveling at the sight of their hands. Daud tolerates the excited chattering and joking comments of his men for as long as it takes for the sun to set fully before he shoos them away with poorly concealed affection behind his growled commands, allowing them to plunder the bottles of choice alcohol. Emily and the Whalers leave the two of them alone, the latter not without shouting a few more teasing, decidedly dirty jokes in their direction.

Daud sighs, relieved about the silence, and turns towards his soulmate. Corvo stands in front of the window, lit from behind with the last golden sunlight, and he looks so ridiculously beautiful that Daud feels as if he’s dreaming. Daud approaches him, returning his touched smile, and a moment later they are tangled in each other’s arms, kissing wildly, and it doesn’t take them long to flop down on the bed, helplessly struggling for breath when they lose themselves in their connection.

A long time later, when night has fallen, Daud and Corvo find themselves curled into each other, bathed in sweat and the other’s scent. Corvo has claimed Daud’s right hand, holding it firmly in his and rubbing possessive littler circles over the fresh tattoo on the back. The crow’s skull still itches a little, but Daud relishes the occasional painful stinging, as it reminds him of the bond they just sealed.

 _Do you think it will go on like this_? Corvo signs after a while of blissful silence.

Daud cracks his halfway closed eyes open, still feeling drowsy from their earlier activities. “What do you mean? If we will manage to stay together?”

Corvo chuckles and presses a kiss against Daud’s temple. _No. I know we’ll stay together, no matter what. I meant… Do you think we will manage to spend some time without a catastrophe of some kind trying to kill us?_

Daud laughs huskily, feeling Corvo’s shoulder his head rests on shake as he chimes in.

“Maybe. I hope so, at least. I’m sure we can take it on, though, whatever comes.”

_Are you so sure about that? You have a habit of attracting danger._

“I know a great deal, Corvo,” Daud growls, his hand sweeping down Corvo’s back to caress the soulmate mark he knows is there, and Corvo chuckles in response, his breath ghosting over Daud’s lips. “Also, I could say the same thing about you.”

Corvo grins. _It’s a strange combination, you and me. Knife and crow._

“It is,” Daud comes back after a glance at their entangled tattooed hands, briefly recalling Corvo’s decision to spare him back then, choosing mercy over revenge, as if he knew that the two of them would fall in love over time. “Maybe you should have never suggested me as spymaster.”

Corvo laughs, the most beautiful sound Daud knows, clearly hearing the sarcasm in Daud’s voice. _I’m glad I did._

“I am too.”

They kiss, deeply and passionately, and something deep inside Daud’s heart settles down, sated with happiness, when he lets the thought pass his mind, that Corvo’s choices as well as his own had led the two of them to where they are now, because if Daud has learned one thing, it’s that their choices always matter to someone, somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there we are. I really hope you enjoyed this journey, because I certainly did. All my thanks to Taywen for their lovely support, and to every single person who took their time to stop by and read this, leave kudos and comments. I can't possibly put into words how surprised I was about the positive reception for this story, and all I can say is that I'm incredibly thankful. Every little comment made me smile. Maybe I will do some oneshots settled in this AU at one point, but not as regularly as I updated this work. I have the feeling that everything came to a satisfying conclusion and I hope you share that feeling. Again, I love you all!


End file.
